Instrument of Surrender
by Substance
Summary: Yuri/Femslash - Ashe x Sejuani / Ashe x Quinn - a complete series. If Ashe is to unite the Freljord, she must forgo kindness to become the brazen warrior of Sejuani's dreams. As the two rivals lose themselves, piece by piece, others are drawn into their trials, including Volibear, and a young Demacian eager to find herself in a distant land.
1. Introduction

**Instrument of Surrender**

* * *

**Introduction**

These are my collected stories about the Freljord. They were intended to be read in sequence, so I thought I'd compile them.

The pairings are **Ashe x Sejuani** and **Ashe x Quinn**. The point-of-view switches between Sejuani and Ashe. I wouldn't call this a love triangle. It's a different flavour of drama. Let's just say my version of Ashe travels widely, and affects many people.

The content warnings vary from section to section, so I'll post the roughest, even if they're not representative of the whole. There are instances of dubious consent, knifeplay, self-harm, gender confusion, role reversal, dominance/submission, and there's angst over childbirth and parenthood. As this is sword and sorcery, expect people to be hitting each other with weapons and spilling blood.

There are explicit sex scenes, but this collection is four parts angst and five parts drama for every one part erotica. As implied by the pairings this is **femslash/yuri**, so most of it is about women-loving-women. However, there are hetero flights of fancy, and some characters exhibit trans-masc/nonbinary tendencies, so few characters are all-woman, all of the time.

With all that in hand, this is **Rated MA**.

Most of this was written before the Warmother update, so it's a loose application of the older, spottier lore. There are dream sections where an alternative universe comes into play. Faithfulness was never a priority.

For those who haven't quite bolted, I've tried to make this cathartic rather than cruel. The series covers dark ground, but with as much sympathy as I can muster. Whether I've conveyed that is not for me to judge. For most of my life, I'd never considered myself a 'dark writer' but, evidently, I have my moments.

If you're still with me, then I hope you enjoy what follows.


	2. Infinity

_Sejunai_

* * *

**Infinity**

I once had infinity.

At the height of the Freljord, where the land met the sky, day and night stretched beyond the horizon. Midnight's sun gave way to a deathless moon. There were no walls within or without. Those with the strength to thrive could be all they wished.

Now all I have is a prison, darkness, the taste of leather and dirt, shackles binding my limbs.

A decent foe would have killed me, ended my life with honour and conviction, but not _her_. She personally gagged me so I would not bite through my tongue, and padded the wall so I would not crack my skull.

She wants me alive.

* * *

For all her talk, Ashe is not weak. She drew Lissandra to my troops. I was forced to retreat and fell into an ambush.

With no distractions, I can do naught but dwell on my lapse. My capture was fair. A colder heart won that day. What angers me is the gentle sadism and hypocrisy of her "mercy".

So I wait, refusing all nourishment. Dehydration will kill me. The headaches, confusion and sickness will be a welcome respite from my shame.

She knocks on the door, a pitiful courtesy. Entry is not mine to allow. She fears the embarrassment of watching me excrete. I never reply.

Ashe must have come straight from court, as if such a thing has a place in the Freljord. Her clumsy gown trails in the dirt. She pulls the garment aside as she closes the door. I watch the dress hug her side, revealing the hunter behind the theatre.

If I ruled, nature's art would be framed with weapons and armour, not smothered in velvet. Ashe is a masterpiece, nimble, precise, vivid, her eyes brighter than any piece of tat she drapes around her neck. That a goddess would constrain and coddle her tribe, when she could elevate them so, is intolerable.

She speaks. Above the dreary formality of her trappings, each word shines with crystal harmony. Her voice is the song of glaciers, the Freljord. She embodies the very thing that she would destroy. 'It hurts to see you like this.'

I want to tell her the feeling's mutual, that in her bunting she's nothing more than an empty cipher in bondage to a false myth.

'I'm… going to remove your gag. Just know that I have the means to save your life a dozen times over if you try anything.' She runs her fingers through my hair and behind my ears. Her tips are calloused from archery. I wonder if they still feel anything.

She undoes the rag. Knowing it may be my last chance, I unload as much spit on the floor as I can muster. She averts her gaze and says nothing. I break the silence. 'Have you come to express the terms of my surrender?'

'I seek to unite the Freljord, not conquer it.'

'Fine words from someone who would be queen.'

'I am a servant of destiny.'

'There is no such thing. The winter cares not for your tale.'

'I believe in our future.' She cups my face. I do not like such naked manipulation, imposing assent with nerves and chemicals. It is the lowest form of magic. 'There is a place for you, Sejuani, if only you could see it.' Her thumb brushes my lip. I bite. My tooth grazes her skin. A rope of saliva stretches and breaks as she retrieves her hand. There is no blood. She is tougher than she looks.

'With your "destiny" in place… there is no future.'

Ashe responds with a melancholy sigh. She produces a new gag and I clench my jaw, ready to make her work for my torment. However, my body is weak. I retch in pain as she kicks me in the belly, my reflexes too dull to flex my abdomen. Once more, her obscene digits are violating my mouth and I can only growl in protest. I envisage her sucking those fingers dry.

Ashe looks at me with sadness and… pride? We are both warriors and she respects my defiance. I would want the same from her if she were _my_ prisoner.

Not that I would keep her alive, naturally.

* * *

This is the greatest land in Runeterra. The only place where one can truly be free. There is nothing to compare with the open tundra. A woman is a giant with no walls to dwarf her. All ends are possible where there is no road to ordain your first step.

Here, one can embrace the kaleidoscope of mortal feeling and experience, unbound by the petty lunacy of custom.

Ashe means to bar us all from paradise because the least of her tribe may fall. I would save the Freljord from her… and Ashe from herself.

…no, she must die. There is no other way.

But if I narrow the future, limit its potential, I am no better than her.

My headache returns. I do not know whether I sleep or faint.

* * *

I can still feel her hands in my hair and mouth. Deprived of stimulation, my nerves echo what came before.

Like an amputee with a phantom itch, I find myself yearning for those hands. If they returned, I could ease my distress.

* * *

I barely acknowledge the wardens who visit my cell but there is one visitor I can't ignore.

Tryndamere looks absurd in his finery. He is like a child or pet, adorned by a senile governess, another victim of Ashe's dream. As with her, the image sells him short. He is far wilier than his crude reputation.

He slouches against the door, not lowering himself to ape royal comportment. 'I don't get it,' he says. 'If it were up to me, I'd gut you, one less flag for our enemies. Ashe ain't doing herself any favours and it would spare _you_ the pain of starving to death.'

'Then you should correct her mistake.'

'I can defy her but your head is a bridge too far.'

'Are you a man or a slave? If you can not act then what is the point of living?' Do my words anger Tryndamere? I can not say. One does not harness their rage for combat without some constraint. 'Where is your pride?'

'Gave that up when I spent a year in a cave. You can die with honour in the Freljord but you can't _live_ with it. Even Ashe, with the world at her feet, had to marry a brute she didn't love.'

'No doubt, _you_ are happy with the arrangement.'

'She's pretty but not my type. I'd sooner have a tribal matriarch with child-bearing hips and a taste for blood, not a dreamy slip of a girl who's all vision and majesty.'

'I could never pretend to love someone.'

Tryndamere reacts. He looks over me in clear surprise. 'You got me going there. For a moment, I thought you were Sejuani.'

'Every member of my tribe can stand on their own two feet. We can bond free of trivial concerns. Our unions grow from love and desire, not parlour games and fear.'

'Never thought life in the Winter's Claw was a non-stop orgy. I should visit more often.'

'You would be frustrated.' I sneer. 'The _Avarosan _may swell from indulgence but we have nobility.'

'Hmph, maybe I did join the right side. That must be dull.'

'The truth we share is more exciting than any lie.'

Tryndamere rolls his eyes. 'You sound like _her_.' Straightening his back, he works out the kinks in his neck and shoulders. Evidently, he had kept his bad posture for too long. I dread the time I have to move. If an infection does not claim my hearing, I would go deaf from the creaking of my joints. At least I would not hear the mewling of an Avarosan crowd, or Ashe's hand-wringing, at my execution. 'Got to say, I thought you were a glorified raider but… you're serious.'

'I care not what you think.'

'Suits me.' He leans in to capture my gaze. 'But you're wrong about _us_ too. We don't go around with our heads up our backsides, talking in riddles. There are problems here, thousands, but we confront them. Ashe can be wrong and she crosses herself each day, but she _knows_.' There is a faraway tone to his voice. Perhaps he does feel something for Ashe, not love or affection but sympathy. She is beyond his pity and he knows it. 'She even tells me so… when she recalls I'm her husband.'

'I am surprised she keeps up her act behind closed doors.' I feel disappointed.

'There's no act. Everyone knows we haven't touched since our wedding night. Even then, Ashe wouldn't look me in the eye. She hoisted her skirt and bit down on the pillow until we had the bloody sheets to make it official.' He grimaces at the memory. 'I offered to cut myself but she feared someone would cast _clairvoyance_.'

I look away. My lip quivers with rage. That Ashe would present her intimate core for violation, and surrender what could have been a cherished memory, strengthened my belief that she was on the wrong path.

If I ruled the Freljord, every man and woman would be master of their own body and soul, no wanton tributes to perverse machinations.

Tryndamere reads my disgust. 'Are you upset? If _I_ were in your boots, I'd want to see my captor on all fours.'

'Why would I hear of your tribe's depravity when I fight against it?'

I recognize Tryndamere's expression, that of a powerless foot soldier, numb to pain and impotence. 'You won't accept anything, will you? No comfort, no mercy, not a thing that would lessen your purity.' He shakes his head. 'Meanwhile, we have you on a plate and Ashe would sooner risk the lives of her own than claim victory.'

My fury at Ashe ebbs a little. I imagine conquering the Freljord through negotiation and conclude I would rather die. No doubt, she feels the same about taking my life when we could all join hands. My stomach turns at the thought. However repellent, I can respect her goals more than Tryndamere's diffidence. 'You were once a force of nature. Now you go where the wind blows without care for anything greater. Leave before you sicken me further.'

'I have not changed. The first law of the Freljord is survival. I slaughter my enemies because I endure their blows.'

The door opens and Ashe comes in. She gives Tryndamere a dubious look and speaks coldly. 'What are you doing here?'

Tryndamere grunts. 'Her fate concerns me as well. I have every right to address her.' He shoots me a parting glance. 'It's been... enlightening. The "Winter's Wrath" has a romantic side.'

As he leaves, the wrongness of their pairing makes my head spin. Ashe's personal tendencies are as clear as the open sky. Her tread, her rapid eyes, are not those of a woman who craves brisk, sensible rutting for pleasure or conception.

No... Ashe would be furtive, passionate... an eager partner in mutual destruction. Those bright eyes flicker towards me and I imagine them on her pillow, squeezed shut above clenched teeth.

Ashe speaks. 'Did he touch you?'

I laugh darkly. If I were not chained, I could have strangled Ashe for her disingenuousness. Even if Tryndamere _had_ molested me, she would have to deny the event. 'No, your marriage is safe… for now.'

Her mouth twitches. I can feel the heat growing within her. 'Then what _did_ he mean?'

'On your wedding night...' I put myself in Ashe's position, the strongest political force in the Freljord submitting to loveless deflowerment, 'did you cry?'

I glimpse a flash of white hot emotion and briefly understand the shamans of the ursine. Apparently my disordered senses can see more than a clear mind. I saw anger at my pertinence and horror at my knowledge… but there was something else in the turn of her lips, the tide of her breath. I wondered how long it had been since anyone considered her inner life... long enough that delving was unthinkable.

She wants to confide but I am her enemy. If I am her only respite then she must forego as her destiny requires. Without a word, she leaves.

Viewing the walls of my cell, I am filled with doubt. Perhaps she merely thought me unpleasant. I miss the Freljord. If I had its freedom and power, I could show her. It doesn't have to be this way.

* * *

My release draws near. Stones flicker and dance. The familiar pain in my head is now excruciating. I sleep for most of the day and wake only to hang limp and dry heave. All I can do is yell to intensify the pain so I fall back into the land of merciful dreams.

They have brought food again. I recognise the smell of broth, salt and vegetables. They do not bring meat, lest I accuse them of serving Bristle. It gets easier to refuse food and water as I weaken. My gut contracts and rebels at the very thought of digestion.

When my jailor kneels before me, I see colours, blue and blonde. It is Ashe herself. She has put aside her gown to wear her cloak. My heart stops at her beauty. Perhaps it is not Ashe but a valkyrie, luring me to the grave.

Ashe dips her thumb in a jug of mead to wet my lips. Her touch! I had longed for it and I shiver with joy. She has cursed me with this terrible weakness. I had once thought my preference for women would protect me from dominance.

'Sejuani,' she says, 'please don't give up. It doesn't have to end this way.'

'I will never surrender.'

'You don't have to! We could unite the Freljord against Lissandra.'

'I could never abide your ways.'

'You can retain your lands.'

'For how long? You offer an easy life and many will accept. Peace and war are just two different battlefields. I would lose and rule nothing.' I resist the urge to suck the mead as it trickles down my chin. I distract myself from the taste by focusing on her hands, the smell of her armour. She is very close. 'You offer nothing but a... slow death. If you have any...' my next word was a mistake. I should have said "respect" but in my delirium, I say... '_love_ for me then take my life.'

Ashe's head bows. Her pale throat undulates with each swallowed emotion. She sobs twice then cries openly. 'Why are you doing this?' Her voice is a girlish whimper. I should feel contempt but there is something primal in her grief. She is reverting to something more honest, more admirable. 'You have... so much! You are strong and brave and... sublime and you would sooner throw it away than... be with me.'

I stumble over my words. Her sorrow is contagious. 'I would ask you the same. You chain yourself with destiny, name yourself queen when you could be a... goddess.'

She holds me with her eyes, those brilliant blue eyes, then raises the jug to her mouth. I watch, mesmerised as she leans in and forces the life into me with her lips and tongue. Never had I known softness like this. It does not weaken but invigorate. I kiss her back and my heart pounds within my fragile skull.

I crave so much but these walls stifle me. I need to take Ashe away from here, across the endless plains, make love beneath the stars. Here, there is no future beyond one desperate kiss. It hurts. My lips are cracked. She must taste my blood.

Ashe withdraws. Without a sound, she undoes my chains then turns her back on me. Adrenaline gives me the strength to rise. I am dizzy. My toes writhe as they recall how to balance my weight.

Ashe finally speaks. 'This is not how it ends.'

'You would… throw away your new world?'

Her voice is like steel. I would gladly walk with her if she knew the right path. 'I have thrown away _nothing_. This is _not_ how it ends.'

'Is… this not your destiny?'

'I don't know,' her fingers dance with apprehension, 'but one chapter remains untold. I can't lose it… and neither can you.'

'If you had been _my_ prisoner, I…'

'You would _not_!' Like a true ruler, she brooks no dissent. Or maybe she is yelling to convince herself. 'I have stood here long enough. Even as you are, you could break my neck.' She lifts her chin. 'If you wish to rule the Freljord then take your prize!'

It is an offer I must accept. My desires are nothing compared to the Freljord's. The winter's rage empowers my weakened muscles and guides my hands to encircle Ashe's throat. Her skin burns. I have bathed in flesh and blood and fire but nothing compares to the heat of this woman. It draws me close and my arms pull her body into mine. Our cheeks brush. I want to kiss her again and she readily obliges.

I can not kill her, maybe on the field of sacred battle but not here.

Had I the strength to take her with me…

She gently pushes me away. 'Bristle is down the corridor on your right. We have taken care of him. You will not have to ride far. Udyr has been hounding our gates, waiting for an opening. He clearly has your rescue in mind.' She takes a deep breath, shaking with the knowledge of her actions. 'I… wish we could understand each other.'

'We do.'

'Yes… you're right.' Her smile is crooked. 'That's the problem. Is there really no hope?'

'Not here… but in the Freljord, there is always hope.'

'Thank you, Sejuani. If one of us needs to fall then… I will pray until the bitter end.' I can hear the despair in her voice, her fear of the world, her need to enclose and protect. It is like a toxin that poisons her every thought. I wonder if she could ever truly be happy.

I imagine her with children. If only I could love her as a man, I would give her the strongest bloodline to walk this land. For the first time in my life, I know pity. 'I have already fallen, Ashe.'

I leave quickly after that. The ache is too strong. A moment longer and I would be her slave. As I pass the threshold, I hear her whisper. 'As have I, Sejuani… as have I.'

* * *

Once more, I am atop the Freljord. I can foresee nothing... but infinity stretches before me, and, somewhere in its depths, is a future where we lie in each other's arms, free from obligation to the weak of heart.

If I ride far into the cold, follow my path to its deepest, darkest hell then I will know her warmth and if she follows her bright, peaceful sun, the figure eight will draw us together.

Until then, we fight.


	3. Dreams

**Dreams**

There are no stars tonight. The sky is dark with cloud and the air is sick with damp. When you ascend the Freljord in ursine lands, you bathe in mist that soaks deeper than any lake. It finds your bones.

I am disappointed. Storms in poetry are evocative, not merely uncomfortable. Inspiration would serve me well in our task.

Volibear climbs ahead. He remains on two legs, even when the steep terrain would be easier on all fours. The trail is an old friend to him. He navigates it gracefully while I struggle with my narrow frame. His fur glistens, ready to freeze into a glacial carapace.

The fog suddenly clears. My skin revels in the sweet air. Above, the clouds are purple with rage. They glow and flicker but herald no rain, just holy thunder.

Volibear shakes his pelt dry and guides me to a circle, hewn into the rock with arcane precision. It resembles one of our duelling pits. There is a stone chair holding judgement but Volibear ignores it, preferring to sit, cross-legged, on the ground. I have watched his non-sentient cousins give displays of surprising flexibility that approach human expression but there is something uniquely stubborn about Volibear. He does things the hard way, pushing himself even at rest.

He growls with approval. 'The thunder's call is strong… a good omen.'

I do not share his optimism. 'How so?'

A lightning bolt strikes the ground and I leap aside. The ground crackles. Volibear laughs kindly. 'The power is drawn to you but there is no danger while I am here.'

My muscles twitch. 'Right now, a shock is the least of my worries.'

'Of course.' Volibear contemplates the angry sky. I can assume only that the patterns mean something to him. 'In answer to your question, the storm favours you, which speaks well of your character. Your dreams will be vivid.'

'They are vivid enough.' Ever since my incarceration at Ashe's home, every night has been another world, and every dawn, my body is a cold prison for my unwilling soul, torn back to earth.

Ashe is my sworn enemy and I love her.

For a while, I thought passion would fuel our conflict but she kept her troops from my border. Exhaustion has stopped me from taking advantage. I have sleepwalked into a truce.

The final straw came when an arrow flew into my camp. To everyone's bemusement, and my horror, there was something tied to its shaft, a pillow case, strewn with blonde hair and marked with a single drop of blood. I should have burnt it but I was too weak. The first night, I breathed her scent as I rode my hand but I could never quench my need with empty pleasure. I dreamt and sleep became an addiction.

The Winter's Claw are not a spiritual tribe so I had to look elsewhere for help.

I lay the pillow case on the ground. 'This is my focus.' I can't look Volibear in the eye.

'That on which you dream.' Volibear speaks favourably. 'Many seekers think too hard and bring something obscure.'

'Another dreamt on this.'

'Hmm… if their essence is strong, your thoughts could merge.'

'It is stained with their blood.'

'Then this dreamer is your focus?' Volibear flatters me with discretion. He is wise enough to put a name to my wound but he does not speak it.

'Yes.'

Volibear is silent for a while. 'Sejuani,' he says gravely. 'The rite may unearth demons that you would sooner keep from me. I have done this many times and I am slow to judge but if you retreat now, I fully understand.'

His esteem is precious and I do not risk it lightly. 'I am committed. This malaise has to end before I lead us to oblivion. If you think less of me then that is the price I pay.'

'You are brave.' He settles his posture for a long journey. I marvel that his back is strong enough to hold his enormous bulk upright. 'You will experience and recall everything as if it were a normal day. I can observe but your thoughts remain yours alone.'

'Would they not manifest?'

'With the storm's blessing, I can see the fire through the smoke but only _you_ know the spark.'

There is a slim chance that I will keep some dignity though it is cold comfort if my troubles go unresolved. I fold my arms to hide my trembling hands. 'Okay… I am ready.'

'Then lie down. Make sure your head is touching the ground. You do not have to be comfortable, just safe.' The skies churn above me. Clouds part to reveal a web of lightning, gold against the void. There is no radiance. The storm is whole and pure. It acknowledges nothing but the will of its chosen.

Volibear's voice deepens with new resonance. 'Engage with your focus.'

I hold the pillow case to my heart and lips. Could Ashe have lain here, dreaming of me? I see her platinum blonde hair encircle her sleeping face like a bird's nest. Her breath is quick, urgent and sensual, quick as the lights that cycle above. I kiss her name.

Volibear roars. His voice and the thunder are one. Shock burns away all feeling. The sound deafens me. Colours take my sight.

There is nothing except her smell, her clean, soft beautiful smell. Frozen dew on arctic flowers.

I awake.

* * *

Unwelcome hands shake my body. My eyelids are heavy with rheum. The dry pain urges me back to sleep. I had crawled into bed after a fourteen hour night shift in damp, autumnal conditions, only to be disturbed three hours later.

'Sej…' I feel words on my cheek, 'come on. It's eleven o'clock.' The warmth of a body envelops mine. Growling, I pull the owner into bed and close my eyes. 'Oh, don't do this now. We have to get ready.' I hold on tighter. 'I love you too, now get up. I've made you some coffee.'

The duvet is whisked away, buffeting me with cold air. I don't mind the chill and I sleep fully clothed but I relent when the bedside lamp shines into my face.

Ashe grins down at me. Weary as I am, it is a pleasure waking up to that coy smile. 'Ooh, for once, I'm glad you cover up.' She tickles my sides. I grab her wrists and we tumble across the mattress. She laughs and kisses me again. 'Later. Now move before I get cross with you.'

I stumble over to my wardrobe, straining to choose a presentable outfit with my gunged-up eyes. Eventually, I settle on a pair of black suit trousers and a flowing button-down shirt in 'persian indigo.' It just looks like an expensive shade of purple to me. I leave the cuffs undone, a lazy habit that took on new meaning when Ashe bought me a gold bracelet with a bow and arrow motif. I like to make sure it's always visible.

I find my coffee, white with no sugar, and corner Ashe in the bathroom. She is stressing while trying to apply her makeup. I still don't know how she manages to complicate everything. 'You look fine,' I say. Honestly, I'd prefer it if she didn't wear any of that muck.

'That's very sweet but unhelpful. I could do with a more critical eye.' She peers into the mirror. 'I don't know about this blusher…'

'I thought we were in a rush.'

'It's all right for you. Not all of us can roll out of bed looking all scruffy and stylish. I'm tragically plain without my secret weapons.' I lean in to kiss her. 'Not now, Sej, you'll mess everything up.'

Feeling rather glum, I walk away to finish my coffee. As I get my overcoat, I see our picture by the door. Ashe has this preoccupation with having photos done "as a couple". I find it all terribly false. A relationship shouldn't be a performance or decoration. I look so awkward here. For the life of me, I can't understand why Ashe would be remotely pleased with it.

She has finished preparing. I'm a little disappointed. Her outfit isn't much different from what she wears to the office. Something more casual or daring would have suited her better. She's gorgeous. It annoys me that she expends effort on trying to look like everyone else.

She beams up at me. 'You look so handsome, my tall, dark prince.'

'I'm not tall.'

'Tall enough that I have to do this.' She stands on her tiptoes and pecks me on the lips. 'Do I look all right?'

I run my fingers down her side. The fabric of her cardigan is just the right kind of fluffy. It hugs her body. 'Hmm…' I smile wickedly. 'You could lose a few layers.'

She playfully taps my cheek then holds my gaze as she undoes two buttons and pulls down her top, showing her cleavage. She must be wearing that skimpy bra that barely covers her areolas. 'Is that better?'

I slip a finger down her front and briefly stroke her nipple. It _is_ that bra. She gives a happy little grunt of arousal. 'Getting there.' I say.

'You prefer it when I'm uncivilised?' She clings to my arm. 'Fine but you'll have to scare the creepy-crawlies away.'

'Gladly.'

She hugs me. 'Ooh, see, you can be couple-y. You just need the right encouragement.' She checks her handbag then unlocks the apartment door. 'Come on then.'

* * *

This part of town makes my skin crawl with anxiety. I can feel every café and every boutique rejecting me. The people talk and laugh, hands reflexively touching their own chests as they broach their favourite subjects. There is none of the weariness and distrust of people from my world. Ashe rubs my back to soothe me. 'You okay?'

'People like me don't belong in Rue Avaros.'

'You belong with me, Sej.' She kisses my shoulder.

'Thank you.' I don't always like Ashe's public displays of affection but I'm grateful for this one.

I don't know why I agreed to escort Ashe this time. She's forever trying to commandeer my rest days for her social life. The latest reason made me so dizzy that I said "yes" by accident.

Ashe had been promoted at work, making her peers jealous. A rumour had surfaced that our relationship was a front, so Ashe could secure preferential treatment by playing the homophobia card. The whole idea is laughable. In my line of work, there is no room for politics.

So Ashe wanted to quash all the lies by dragging me before the HR manager. Apparently, this woman "rules the roost" at their company. Ashe waves at someone. We have reached our destination.

The two people sitting at the table make an odd pair. One of them is Ashe's ex-husband, Tryndamere. Naturally, I was _thrilled_ when he started work at her firm. He is a giant of a man with a loud, mocking laugh. I wouldn't label him carefree, he's a little too old and marked for that, but he seems indifferent to the world. No doubt, he makes and loses "friends" quickly.

The second person is an overdressed, scrawny woman in late middle-age. With her hooked nose and feathered coat, she resembles a giant bird. As I linger a few steps behind, she watches with big, cold eyes.

Ashe greets them. 'Hello! It is warm today, isn't it?' She drags me forward. 'This is my partner, Sejuani.'

Tryndamere grins. His moustache and beard move in strange patterns, like a child drawing over a portrait. 'See, Anivia? I told you she was real.'

Anivia smiles tightly. 'I never doubted it.' She offers a gloved handshake. It is frail and stiff but more honest than Tryndamere's bonhomie.

Introductions over, Ashe claps her hands a little too eagerly. 'Can I get you any drinks?'

Gesturing to the ornate spread before her, Anivia says, 'thank you, Ashe, but I've still got half a pot of tea.'

Tryndamere raises his empty glass. 'Another bottle of Grag's finest, if you would.'

I catch Ashe's gaze. 'Medium white?' She nods. 'I'll get these. Take a seat.' As I walk away, I hear Ashe frantically explaining that I don't like being waited on. If they disapprove of my manners, I don't really care.

The proprietor might be the fattest human being I have ever seen. Typically, the sight would disgust me but I rather like the idea of this ball of lard stinking up the wallpaper of the well-heeled. I get myself another coffee to allay my exhaustion. Alcohol would just put me to sleep.

By the time I come back, Ashe has broken the ice and all three are chatting without me. Tryndamere grabs his bottle with gusto. 'Cheers, Sej. You not drinking yourself?' I don't know why he's this friendly to me. Perhaps he's making a show of his maturity to Ashe? I let her answer this one.

'Sej was at work until six o'clock this morning.'

Anivia arches an eyebrow. 'On a Sunday?' These people don't know they're born. 'That's not normal, I hope?'

I lean back and hide behind my cup. 'I work six in every nine so that includes weekends.'

'When do you see each other?'

Ashe is playing with her wine glass. Her eyes and mouth have that mournful cast I know all too well. She would rather see me every night and can't bear to say that everything's fine. With a strong sense of guilt and failure, I speak up. 'It's not easy and if I'm not at work, I'm exhausted.'

Ashe puts her hand on mine. She gives a sad little smile, grateful that I acknowledge her pain. 'You're worth it, Sej.'

Anivia continues her interrogation. 'What do you do, again?'

'Mountain rescue,' I say.

'A noble goal.'

'I don't know about that. I think we'd save more lives if we didn't exist. Climbers wouldn't take as many stupid risks.'

Tryndamere roars with laughter as if I'd told a joke. Rolling her eyes, Ashe smacks my arm. 'You don't mean that.'

Anivia stirs her tea. 'If you do not believe in your work then why not get another job?' She makes it sound so easy.

I want to say that not all of us play games and have friends in high places but I hold my tongue. 'No one else would have me.'

'Not with that attitude, dear,' says Anivia. 'You should be more positive.' I knew Ashe's firm liaised with teachers but I didn't think the condescension would rub off _this_ much. Anivia turns to Ashe. '_Please_ tell me the uniform is nice.'

Ashe beams at me. 'Oh, yes.'

I shake my head. 'It's a set of waterproofs with reflective stripes. I really don't get the appeal.'

'You look very rugged in it.' Ashe caresses my bicep. 'Will you take off that coat? You're always complaining about how hot you are.'

My coat is my armour. It stays. 'I'm fine. It's not that warm.'

'You're as bad as Anivia and her feathers.'

Anivia throws back her shoulders. 'These are my _brand_. I would no sooner discard these than my name.'

The conversation goes on without me. Soon, I rest my head on folded arms and try to doze. As expected, I don't get away with it for long. Ashe prods me awake. 'Be sociable for once.'

Tryndamere is taking my side again. 'Leave her be. I used to work shifts. It's brutal.'

'_You_ managed to stay awake.'

'And lose my temper. Give her a break. I know you like to boss your partners around but you can save that for the bedroom.'

Anivia loudly clears her throat. Ashe ruffles my hair. 'This one doesn't listen to me, anyway.'

'Good girl,' says Tryndamere, raising his glass. 'Don't give her an inch.'

Ashe laughs. 'Sej gives me _far_ more than "inches".'

'I bet!' Tryndamere winks. 'You were pure as the driven snow once. Think I prefer the new Ashe.'

I feel a pang of jealousy at their easy, open rapport. It is a dance I can only perform behind closed doors. Nonetheless, I recognise the commiseration of old soldiers bonding over shared trauma. I think I would sooner die than relate to Ashe as Tryndamere does now. Their words are the sound of defeat.

Anivia is staring daggers at the road, aggressively uninvolved with their puerile banter. I suspect her nest must be a barren place. 'Well,' she says imperiously, 'back to grown-up matters. Are you planning children?'

We answer at the same time.

'Yes.'

'We'd like to but…' Ashe catches my eye and looks apologetic for contradicting me, 'we can't work out the details.'

Like a hawk judging her prey, Anivia leans in. 'Tell me.'

Ashe opens her mouth but doesn't speak. I hold her hand, silently conveying that it's all right to continue. 'One of us would have to stay home and raise the child.'

This is at her insistence. I would rather keep our freedom, hire a nanny then leave the child to its own devices as early as possible to encourage self-reliance. 'I earn more than you, Ashe.'

'Not _much_ more now and, with my hours, we could all be together in the evenings.' Ashe squeezes my hand. 'You're just not a homebody, Sej. It's not your fault.'

'I don't think I could forfeit my independence.'

'It's not easy for me, either.'

Anivia clicks her tongue. 'You don't get to be an island if you start a family.'

Putting down his drink, Tryndamere rubs his beard. 'I don't know… there are enough single parents out there who…'

With a swoop of her feathered arm, Anivia silences Tryndamere. 'They put on a brave face. You'll understand once you've been in your role longer.' She turns back to me. 'Could you move into training?'

'It's already part of the job and I'm not great. My shift partner, Voli, is a natural. He makes us all look bad.'

Ashe gives me a nagging look. 'I haven't met Voli yet. He sounds nice.'

'You could visit the lodge after work but you always have too much to do.'

'Ladies!' Tryndamere interrupts our bickering, as if he has the right. 'Do we want any more to drink?'

I _really_ can't endorse his intrusion, so I put my head back on the table without answering. He orders me another coffee from a shockingly youthful waiter. I didn't think child labour was permitted in this country. Tryndamere calls the waiter a name that sounds like a running joke from a sitcom.

My tolerance for these gatherings is at an end. I can only bear them for so long before shutting down. Mercifully, Ashe understands and lets me be until it's time to go.

As we stand up, Anivia extends her claw. 'I'm pleased to have met you, Sejuani. It's been… enlightening.'

'Same.'

Tryndamere takes Ashe to one side. 'Look after her, yeah?' He says. 'I think you've done all right.' My ears prick up at this remark. He notices my attention. 'You're honest, Sej. You could have put on a show about your relationship. You didn't. I respect that.' He wistfully observes the bustling street. The people are chattering, floating, glowing with a cold, dead light. 'I went through a rough patch some time ago. Felt like I was the only person screaming and everyone else was… like this.'

Anivia packs her handbag. 'Everyone goes through that. You're not alone.'

'I know,' says Tryndamere. 'I'm learning but… it would have been easier if people were more like Sej, here.'

Ashe ducks her eyes. 'I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed.'

'Think that's my line.' Tryndamere waves. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

* * *

We walk home in silence. Ashe looks pensive and I have no words for her. She holds my arm as a sailor clings to driftwood. I draw her body to mine. Her hand touches my heart. At this hour, the streets are lit by a mystic orange glow. The buildings in the jewellery quarter are so high, that sunset comes early. The horizon is a mile into the sky.

Back at our apartment, I am too weary to sleep or do anything. I just sit on the couch, staring at the floor while Ashe potters about. It occurs to me that I should eat but my appetite is never reliable when I am tired or stressed. Ashe leaves the kitchen with more wine. That's the third glass today, and she fills to the brim. She sits next to me. 'You going to bed?'

'Don't know.' I rest my head on her shoulder and wonder how I ever coped without this.

'Don't fret about Anivia. She talks to everyone that way.'

'I can imagine.' I snuggle closer. 'I don't understand you, Ashe.'

'What have I done now?'

'It's not you.' I wrap my arm around her waist. 'I'm… not getting any better, you know? And you're so beautiful and charming that you could have anyone.'

'I don't want anyone. I want _you_.'

'Or someone who works normal hours, who's good at parties, who…' my eyes grow warm. I might be starting to cry. In all my years, I haven't cried enough to recognise the feeling, 'who could compromise for your happiness.'

'_You_ make me happy.' Ashe puts down her wine glass. I don't like it when she drinks. It feels like a barrier. 'I know things are hard now but…'

'They will _always_ be hard!' My voice tears my throat. There's no one at my lodge who has the life that Ashe wants. Voli is deeply involved with his extended family but has no wife and children of his own. Udyr has four pets and is considering a fifth. He wanted a jackal for some reason. 'What if it doesn't get better? Could you live with that?'

'I believe in the future.'

'I don't want you to believe in the future! I want you to believe in _me_!'

Ashe kisses me on the lips until I calm down. Few things soothe me like the soft warmth of her mouth. It is like balm for my soul. 'I have two reasons for being here. Would you like to hear them?' She strokes my face while watching through wine-lidded eyes. Despite my objections, my body shivers with guilty pleasure when I smell alcohol on her breath. It often means that she's drunk enough to be frisky. I signal her to continue. 'I see many couples who are perfectly matched and… it breaks my heart. When they look through one pair of eyes, they don't see each other. Why should you consider your lover when there's no need? If they don't challenge you, remind you that they're another wonderful person with thoughts of their own.' She kisses me again. 'That's why I want _you_, Sej. I could _never_ forget that you exist, with your difficult personality...' she is on top of me now, her breasts pushing into mine, 'and hard, sexy body.'

'What's the second reason?'

She kisses my ear. 'I love you, Sejuani.'

I squeeze her tight as if she would vanish at any moment. 'Ashe?'

'Hmm?'

'Can we... make love tonight?' I need to reaffirm what we have.

She smiles crookedly. 'Oh? So you don't want to _now_?'

It's a tempting offer but… 'I may not be much use.'

'Okay.' She taps me on the nose. 'I like being made to suffer. I have one condition.'

'What's that?'

She paws at my clothes. 'You have to sleep naked until then.'

* * *

I go to sleep, wearing nothing but my bracelet. Finally, I am woken up by hands exploring my body and a warm weight pressing into my back.

Ashe is far more fluent in sex than I am. She manages to bring me gently from sleep to readiness. Her body is heavenly and she knows how to move in all the most carnal ways. I quite like having her on top as it's the best way to enjoy all of her. Too much of her skin is beyond my reach when it's pressed into the mattress. However, Ashe likes me to be aggressive and creative. I still feel awkward enacting her fantasies but she insists I'm getting there. Her imagination and libido far surpass mine so I have to work twice as hard.

Tonight, I want to make that effort. Once we're sweaty and flushed beyond the point of dignity, I crawl over to her bedside cabinet. Ashe's eyes light up as I never do this of my own accord.

She had bought me a strap-on to use on her but I'd never got used to wearing it, partly due to inexperience and partly because I felt very exposed. I want a family with her and fucking her this way conjures the part of me that dearly wishes to make her pregnant. The impossibility makes me fragile, not the best state of mind with which to dominate someone.

To reward my initiative, Ashe meets me halfway. She pushes me down and straddles my waist, sparing me the anxiety of finding her rhythm. I love how animated and expressive she is, revelling in her nature without the venal constraints of society. After she comes, we lie in each other's arms, the toy still inside her. I'm so comfortable that I'd forego peaking and embrace her forever. Ashe is too gracious to leave me be though and goes down with brisk affection. I focus hard on the pleasure so I can get back to holding her.

She rests in the crook of my shoulder. I love the way her hair cascades over my breast. She sighs happily. 'How could I ever leave this? I want more of you, not less.'

It hurts that I can't give her what she deserves. 'I know.' If only I could fight harder, reshape the world for us.

'There will always be a place for you here. I won't give up on you even if… you don't believe in me.' I feel her body convulse.

'Ashe?'

She's crying. Her fair skin is red with sorrow. 'You worry that I'll grow tired of our relationship but what about _you_? You've always wanted to stay in darkness. What if my job and my friends are just too much bother? What if I can't let them go... would you...?'

I hold her tight and shower her with kisses. 'Ashe? What brought this on? You know I love you.'

'Answer me, Sej!'

Her ferocity scares me. I don't know what's going on. Our bed is adrift in uncharted seas. I can't see the room.

'Sej?'

My thoughts are a mess. I don't know what to say. Why is it so hard to answer? All I have to do is tell her what's in my heart.

The words catch in my throat. I close my eyes. If I could only concentrate then…

'Don't go!' She screams. It echoes and echoes. 'Don't go into the darkness! Don't give up on me!'

It feels so cold outside. All I want to do is embrace the warmth of our love and ignore everything else. I feel so tired and her voice gets farther and farther away. I can't stay awake…

* * *

Rocks dig into my back. Purple clouds have shrouded the holy storm. In my arms, I hold Ashe's pillow case. Every vein in my body crawls and constricts. I can't lift my arms. I can't breathe. I remember everything, our life together, and it has _gone_. I have nothing except this linen, that drop of blood, those locks of hair. My body is shutting down. It can't take the shock. I want to die.

Volibear is at my side. He lifts me into a seating position and supports me wordlessly. I do not cry, I _wail_. My whole body spasms, vomiting grief before an indifferent landscape.

How am I fit to rule anything?

Once I have recovered enough to hear, Volibear speaks. 'You're going through bereavement. Losing an entire world built on your innermost heart is a mortal wound for some. Do not be ashamed. I would not think any less of you than if I had to tend the scars of war.'

'You… excuse me too quickly. If I were in your place, I would take my head.'

'No,' he says plainly, 'you would have seen stranger things many times before.'

'You can't ignore that I am compromised.'

'A prisoner does not betray their cause by enjoying their captor's food. There is honour and beauty on both sides of any conflict. Responding to such does not make you weak. You are simply mortal.' He helps me stand. 'Good, other seekers have taken days to recover. As I expect, you are doing well.'

I look at Volibear, praying that he will react and break this tension. His voice and expression are so _reasonable_. It may be selfish but I want my ordeal to mean something to him. 'The comparison does not hold. Even if they are both cats, a tiger is deadlier than its cub. You speak as if I have a mild itch and not… _cancer_!' He does not dignify my tasteless metaphor with an answer. Is he giving me space? Letting me vent? 'I… I have no perspective. Tell me where I stand.'

'You are deeply in love with Ashe.'

'Yes, and…?'

'Would you end your crusade to join her?'

'Never.'

'Well then…' I hear the smile in Volibear's tone. 'I see no problem.'

'What?'

'You truly are a scion of war, that your strongest passion is for your greatest foe.' He chuckles. 'Poetry aside, anyone can fight with a clear heart. The greatest heroes are not like the sun on a clear day but a solitary thunderbolt in the darkest night. I have faith in you, Sejuani. I believe…' he slams his mighty fist into his palm, 'that you are planning an assault as we speak.'

Volibear is not wrong. I was shifting lines on my internal map of the Freljord. My anger and frustration sought an outlet in my craft. 'I will do all in my power to bring down her false kingdom. She deserves better.'

'I agree.'

'Then you will help me… liberate her?'

Volibear is quiet for a very long time. He watches the sky. 'I can't envisage her surrender. She… must die. I'm sorry but the strength you admire is your dream's undoing.' His words strike harder than any club, knocking the breath from my lungs. I have no answer for him. 'All I can promise you is this. If it comes to pass that love holds your charge, _I_ will take her life and you may rain vengeance upon my brow until the end of my days.'

I feel a surge of care for this great warrior. We are beyond masks now. I grasp Volibear's paw and boldly look at him through tear-stained eyes. 'You are a better friend than I could ever deserve.'

Volibear puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me away from the summit. 'Please, such modesty does not become you.' He growls eagerly as joints move again. For all his patience, he is bred for action. 'I am curious, though.'

'Why?'

'Many people dream of paradise, not hard–won compromise and marital problems. I could put it down to your honest soul but… I think there is more to it than that.'

'Go on.'

'The blood and hair on Ashe's pillow… I believe her dreams may have crossed yours.'

'Then we…?'

'I'll leave that to your interpretation.'

As I raise a hand to my lips in wonder, I feel something on my wrist. Removing my glove, I can hardly believe my eyes.

A golden bracelet with an archery motif.


	4. Vengeance

**Vengeance**

I ride across the Freljord. It is summer and our midnight sun burns pale and high. The wind is not cold but it saws deep into my flesh. There is _anger_ in the air. Nature is in chaos, flaying all who trespass.

The pain of my allies must be tenfold but they are too proud to show weakness. Volibear gallops on all-fours while Udyr carves through the drift like an arrow through water, spraying snow in his wake.

The very thought of archery makes me snarl like a wounded animal. Against my will, Ashe pierced my heart while I was captive in her dungeon. I fled her shackles but an emblem of our shared curse adorns my wrist. Casting aside all dignity, I had explored my dreams with Volibear's aid, seeking to unravel my obsession before it destroyed my clan. The storm "rewarded" me with material proof of my love, a golden circle, joined with a clasp in the shape of her bow.

There is nothing to stop me throwing the bracelet away, no dark magic.

I wear it still.

In battle, I hoped to purge my soul. These last few months have been a whirlwind of activity. I planned the most intricate raids on Ashe's realm, goading her to break this unwelcome ceasefire. Volibear joked that I was trying to push theory rather than objectives. For all his divine wisdom, he had never been one for the _art_ of war. That was my role.

Soon, there were developments. A border town of wavering loyalty grew silent. Messengers were lost. I was eager for blood, so I headed a sortie. There were objections to my personal involvement but _no one_ stands in my way.

* * *

The walls of Kaiku soar overhead, in spite of the town's humble size. 'No obvious damage,' I think out loud, 'and no sentries.' Leaving such high ramparts unmanned is wasteful.

Volibear uncurls. Wide shoulders balance across hind legs, thicker than tree trunks. 'Well… none that we can see. Are there any vantage points?'

'If there were, this town would not last a week.'

Udyr paces like a caged lion while we gauge the field. 'We have to go inside.' Blue shadows follow his every move. 'Let _me_ go. I can survive the unexpected.'

If I were being rational, I may have concurred, but I have felt compromised for too long. I must be at the front. 'We should group. My instincts tell me something is wrong.' I know Udyr's mind. He is wilful but can be manipulated. You just have to speak his language.

The gale surges. Volibear tracks the disturbance with his nose. 'I agree. The balance is… unstable. There are many forces vying for supremacy.'

I watch the horizon for movement. 'There are no prints beyond our own but if Kaiku was eating from two hands, the Avarosan may be drawn here.'

Udyr's arms brighten with magical fire. 'Or the Frostguard.'

'True.' I hoped it was the Avarosan. If Lissandra took advantage of our collective weakness, the end would be swift. 'Expect an ambush.' I dismount from Bristle. He is an easy target within city walls and I do not risk him lightly. I give no orders. He knows what to do. I test the weight of my flail as he goes to hide.

Udyr looks down at me. He clearly disapproves. 'You need to stay close. That weapon will save your life once. After that, you are easy prey.'

'I am _no one_'s prey.'

'Your bravado is empty. I know your limits.' Udyr only lives because he has no interest in politics. Otherwise, his open disrespect would be intolerable. He is the only member of our legion outside the chain of command. Fortunately, he is never in our base to parade his attitude.

A shadow falls as Volibear stops the argument. 'We have our roles. There is no need for this.'

'Agreed,' I say.

Udyr seems happy to move on. He never had the patience to quarrel at length. 'I'll take point.'

* * *

Kaiku is a strange town. It is a wonder that it stands at all, high houses, large yards, not a single square of communal space, nothing that a disparate group could point to and say "we will fight as one for this". There is power in self-sufficiency but grave weakness in myopia. You conquer or manage your neighbours. Kaiku ignores them. The first passing tribe should have razed this blemish aeons ago.

I run my fingers along a wall. The stone has been weathered smooth as Avarosan skin. Volibear sees my interest and mimics my touch. He growls in thought. 'This is very old. It predates our history, a ruin, alive beyond its time.'

'Not anymore.' Even the wind has stopped. Our footsteps are quiet, as if the ground refuses to acknowledge our presence. 'What happened?'

'Something beyond the ebb and flow of this region… the primal residue is… intoxicating.'

'It does feel unnatural.'

'No… this is _hyper_natural.'

Our conversation reaches Udyr. His green aura flickers. 'That sounds like the work of an elementalist.'

We exchange worried glances. I heft my weapon. 'Lissandra…'

Volibear shields me from view. 'Not just Lissandra.' He scans the rooftops. 'Ashe's bow has a comparable scent.'

This does not convince Udyr, who grunts with contempt. 'Ashe is no mage. She could not lay a trap without her army. There's no evidence of them.' He would rather fight Lissandra. Our feud with the Avarosan is beneath his concern. Luckily for us, he takes pleasure in taunting them when he grows bored, which is most of the time.

Volibear touches my shoulder. He is making the next point so I do not betray myself. 'Her recent behaviour has been… erratic. She could be alone, or hunting in a small group like ours. Any prior knowledge may lead us astray.' Volibear knows that Ashe released me. She valued my life above her triumph.

'Why?' says Udyr. 'By your telling, her heart was never in this conflict. I assumed this dull prodding was normal.' He has not long travelled from Ionia. It is easy to forget, considering his prompt adaptation to the climate.

If Volibear has another excuse prepared, he may keep it. _I_ must take ownership. 'Ashe made overtures while I was her prisoner. She may be striving to… wangle my consent in her illogical, passive way.'

Udyr frowns. 'I assumed as much when she didn't execute you but, after that, why would she change her behaviour unless she had cause?'

'Are you saying _I_ gave her a reason?' I make to stare him down. 'Stop asking me to explain her deeds. Ashe makes no more sense to me than she does to you.'

The earth shakes beneath our feet. Volibear pushes me down to protect me from any falling debris. I could scream in frustration, deprived of sight, agency and sheltered like some frail girl. The paradox of leadership is that once you prove your worth, your life becomes too precious to risk. Volibear is rational, and I value his loyalty, but he must recall that I am his commander, not his queen.

It occurs to me that Volibear has no children but I should not pull that thread.

Soon, he withdraws and I reel with vertigo. I am staring upwards into the ground.

The town is enclosed by a ceiling of ice and rock, emanating a frosty cerulean light. I see that none of the buildings have collapsed. Volibear's intervention was unnecessary.

My skin crawls as I get back on my feet. Volibear's fur stands on end. Udyr prowls with his tiger aspect unleashed. I clear the snow from my pauldrons. 'It has to be Lissandra… or a new power stalks the Freljord.' At times like this, my lack of arcane sensitivity keeps me firm. 'If we get to this wall, could you identify it?'

'Possibly,' says Udyr.

Volibear's affirmation is lost beneath his trembling. '…if the disturbance is of this land.'

I strike my chest. 'Then let's go! We will not cower like vermin.'

* * *

We reach the perimeter. Volibear is huffing and panting from the war inside his head. Udyr maintains balance by rotating stances. I pray he does not exhaust his strength for when we need it.

Up close, I can see that the wall is a churning mixture of ice, rock, mist and earth. Rivers of electricity wind through the joins. Udyr examines the dome while I tend to Volibear. 'Can you fight?' I ask.

He nods. 'I could use an outlet for this… turmoil.'

'We will find prey worthy of your might.'

'Thank you.' Volibear sniffs. 'That may be soon. I can smell human and… something else. We must be careful.'

The heat and roar of Udyr's flame catches my attention. He has apparently failed to burn through the wall. 'Intriguing,' he says.

'What?' I ask.

'This dome is… the Freljord itself.'

'Make sense, Udyr.'

'You are shaped from the elements but, combined, you are "Sejuani". Individual parts submerge into the whole and acquire new meaning. Even if a limb was torn from your body, it would remain _your_ limb.'

'So this is an "arm" of the Freljord, not raw energy?'

Udyr nods. 'If this is Lissandra's work, she is tampering with the host that rules Volibear.'

'That would explain his distress.'

'I feel his pain. This is sacrilege.'

I am surprised to hear Udyr express sympathy for anyone. 'Volibear is the chosen of his faith… and Lissandra torments his god?'

'A theologian would split hairs but you are right.' Udyr scrutinises me. 'They say you are destined to rule the Freljord. Do you believe that?'

'The prophecy was a great inspiration when I was young,' I remember the pain I endured while holy conviction fuelled my drills, 'but I must put away childish things. I have no use for "destiny" if my strength is meaningless.'

Udyr grins hungrily. Underneath his feral demeanour, he is apparently human but I do speculate. 'This is why I hunt with _you_ and not Ashe.'

'What I believe is irrelevant. Ashe received her own vision. We can't both be right. Exposure to other traditions has taught me the limits of our seers. The only sensible course is to assume we are both wrong.'

'Or that you are _both_ destined to rule the Freljord.'

My core is in knots. I am enraged at Udyr's casual sedition… and crestfallen as I could never rule with Ashe, even if it meant spending each day with my beloved. I bare my teeth, expressing myself in a way he understands. 'Say that again and I will feed you to Bristle.'

'Your threats are wasted on me. It is a valid conclusion and one that Ashe respects… or you would not be standing here now.'

Volibear's roar silences our debate. He is close to the ground, muscles coiled, focused on a hidden threat. I run to his side. 'What is it?'

He struggles to form words. 'Human… scent… closing.'

It is about time we saw action. Udyr reflects my eagerness. I loosen my joints and swing my flail. 'Then we fight! In the heart of the void or this frozen cage… the Winter's Claw do not know fear!'

We charge into the depths, glad to break this awful tension. All we have to do is make this trap another battlefield. Volibear is a crackling dynamo. Given the surge in morale, it chills my blood when he rounds a corner and stops dead_._

I nearly fold at the sight… and the knowledge that he is waiting on _my_ account.

Nothing could prepare me for seeing Ashe again, ready for battle. Her colours alone push nails through my heart, that dark hood with gold trim above alabaster skin, brilliant blue eyes that mirror the glassy prism of her longbow. We stare at each other across the battlefield, paralysed with feeling. I barely notice Tryndamere at her side. Ashe lowers her bow…

Udyr sees the opening and attacks. Volibear follows. Ashe and I break our spell and ready our weapons. However, she was always a perfectionist, lining up the ideal shot when any would do. I launch my flail without pause. There is nothing like the feeling of personal strength, the gratification of your body working in harmony. My weapon sails through the air and buries Ashe in an icy prison. Tryndamere spins away from the brawl to save his wife but Volibear simply hurls him aside. Once Udyr pounces, I know Tryndamere's fate is sealed.

I drag Ashe into a bed of snow, pinning her with my weight. I close my eyes, aware that her beauty could stay my hand. I can already feel the silky warmth of her neck, the brush of her locks, her delicate, sensual frame. I gasp for air and shudder with longing. I can do this…

Then she touches my wrist...

I look at her again, helplessly. Every feature is ablaze with emotion. Her eyes are wide with fear, her skin is flush and her lip catches on her teeth. She has the tiniest gap between her incisors.

In my dream, she liked to be dominated. My knee is between her legs. Before I can restrain myself, I push towards her groin. A breathy moan escapes her throat. I know that for all her equanimity, her blood runs hot in war and love.

She speaks. The weight of her voice oppresses harder than a thousand storm clouds in the bleakest winter sky. 'Sej?' That pet name! She has no right to call me so. Her eager hands clutch at my bracelet, as if it could vanish at any time. 'How… how did you get this?' If she recognises it then...

I was wrong. I can't do this alone.

Breaking her gaze hurts more than breaking my own leg. Volibear's eyes glow with predatory light. He knows my weakness and had promised to end Ashe's life should I fail. Wordlessly, I beseech his aid.

The ground shakes at his approach. I am too fearful to look at Ashe. Even if I am doing the right thing, even if I made no promise, nothing changes the fact that I denied her love.

The earth moves, groaning in pain. Something isn't right. Volibear's tread is heavy but nature welcomes him.

A frozen shaft pierces the sky, blocking his advance. As I behold the cancerous growth, pain blinds me. Shards of ice tear my flesh to ribbons. The last thing I hear is a witch's manic laughter and a guttural bellow.

'You're in _my_ kingdom now!'

A club strikes my head. I feel blood... colour, taste… nothing.

* * *

I had no expectations of death. Weak fools presume an ever-after because their lives are empty and meaningless. All is dark but there is a strong air of _potential_. I could see everything and go anywhere… if my senses could permeate this gloom.

A wan blue hand reaches for me. Am I lying down? I grasp it.

The world spins. My hair flows despite the absence of wind and gravity. Before me looms a twisted woman, clad in ancient, decaying armour. Righteous cruelty shines from her pale eyes. Her gaunt features are coated with a spectral membrane that stretches over sharp cheekbones. Her whole being is stripped of warmth and life.

I know who she is. 'Kalista.' The spear of vengeance.

'Yes.' Her voice is plain and resonant. 'I have waited for you.' The darkness yields.

We are in Kaiku, though the dome, and the signs of our battle, have gone. The sky is unlike any I have seen, countless stars, more than our own, but they are grains of dust before the profound emptiness. I remember the purity of the storm atop Volibear's mountain but even that does not match the impossible depth and majesty of this panorama. Living eyes, constrained by reality, could not see this.

I begin to lose my... footing? Kalista holds me upright. 'Every star is a point in time, a thought, an emotion. You behold infinity, the boundless heaven you would build on earth, all that for which you fought.'

I bristle at her intimate knowledge, and the implication that I would abandon my crusade because _I_ was happy. 'Rewarding my failure is unacceptable! I would refuse _all_ this and go back!'

She laughs without joy. 'Self-denial? That is Avarosan talk.'

I nearly punch her but I have yet to fathom the extent of her power and indulgence. Riling her could be dangerous. 'I am not wasting my breath on you. Can I change the world from here?'

'Yes, if you are willing to pay the toll.' Kalista puts a finger to my lips. Her skin is ghastly, cold and viscous. 'Time does not flow here. Impatience will not serve you.'

I clench my hand. 'Fine, you have the advantage… but if you toy with me, I shall remember.'

'Planning to conquer eternity? Few things amuse me, Sejuani, but you do.' Kalista walks as if her legs are broken. 'Your conflict was enjoyable. I prayed that you or Tryndamere would answer fate's call.'

'I am disappointed he lives.' At least I don't have to bear his company.

'As am I. Death rejects him at every turn. He is... meant for something else.' I feel a pang of jealousy. So he is fit to wed Ashe and serve a higher purpose while I have nothing? Kalista points out the buildings. 'What do you know of Kaiku?'

'That it has a long history of doing little.'

She climbs one of the houses and bids me to follow. I am learning to adjust my "presence" to navigate but I should not grow too comfortable. This is not how it ends.

We sit together on the roof. It feels strangely adolescent. My peers hunted forbidden places where they could bond in many ways, watching the stars, cooking food, telling stories, heavy petting. I had my personal moments but they were few and far between. It is a shock to be catching up at all, let alone with the spear of vengeance.

Kalista waits for me to settle. 'Kaiku is nearly as old as the Freljord itself, an empty mockery of a human town, made by hands exploring a concept they could never grasp. It is a weathervane... a "petri-dish".' I look at her quizzically. 'They use it in Zaun to study simple life. These buildings divide human beings so they can be analysed. Lissandra tapped into the same goal when she reduced your civil war to seven people.'

Someone emerges from the opposite building, a young girl, barely a teenager. She is an ideal maiden from illustrated verse, graceful and unblemished. Her smock reveals her long, fair limbs. Blonde hair cascades like a waterfall down her back. For all her classical poise, her face is no sculpture. It is defiantly human, with heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. Kalista grins. 'You recognise her, of course.'

'Ashe.'

'Indeed. She was a pretty girl. One who could have married young and forsworn the bow, found peace as a mother, a trader, a consul. Even the Freljord welcomes those with gentle skills.'

I could have spat. 'Don't assume you know the Freljord better than me.'

'Deny what you will. Your actions speak for you.' Kalista leans in, as if she could force my accord through intimidation. 'Volibear is a mighty warrior but that alone does not make him your rock.'

Time accelerates but Ashe's movements are no quicker. Perception blurs. Instantly, she fortifies the walls then decorates her amendments with roses, creating a fragile beauty, protected from the world. I watch with disdain. 'Ashe would not do that. She would never shy from her potential, even if she does insist on mothering the feckless.' Another girl emerges from our own building. She is small and stocky, wearing nothing but an oversized helmet, leather halter and loincloth. She wields a club and a scowl.

Kalista chuckles. 'You were a brazen young thing.'

Despite her ribbing, I have no cause for embarrassment. 'I proved that I could bear the cold.'

My younger self hammers at the wall dividing our yards. The flail is a difficult weapon. I did not specialise in its use until I came of age. Ashe responds by gathering the roses to keep them safe.

Impossibly, the stone wall collapses from the onslaught. My younger self discards her club and stalks Ashe. I am galled that Ashe was once taller than me. Her growth spurt had come early.

Flowers scatter and the teenagers fight. My stomach churns as they wrestle to the ground. Soon, they are kissing with a lewd ferocity that would shame adults. The performance can only escalate and I have to look away. Kalista is unflappable. 'This is from _your_ mind.'

'I have no desire to watch... _children_ romp like seasoned whores.'

'You were no older when you claimed your first.'

I have painful memories of that day. She was nearly a grown woman. The girlish bodies of my peers held no interest for me. She acquiesced with humour and resignation. I awoke the next morning, older and wiser but profoundly sad. 'I believed... that I felt as a man, so I followed their example and earned my pleasure.' I grow small. Scars adorn my flesh but few cut as deep. Nothing hurts as much as a closed door, something gone forever, an impossibility. 'I left, empty-handed… there was one prize I could not take.'

'Love,' Kalista says without inflection, 'you can take it... just not the kind _you_ need.'

'What would you know?'

'I was mortal once. Love and vengeance are rarely apart.'

Thankfully, the wanton display is over. Against my will, I picture a wild teenhood in Ashe's frenzied clutch. I _ache_. If my spirit feels mortal anguish with no relief then eternity must be hell.

Ashe is now alone, shuffling in a daze, her hair and clothes dishevelled. She rubs her nose and repairs the wall. Within seconds, it is done. I blink and she is an adult, holding a simple bow, all her focus on one target. Nothing else exists. The arrow strikes true. She retrieves it, another perfect shot. Her stony precision is glorious. Those lazy fools in Piltover, with their mechanical short-cuts, would never attain such beauty.

Kalista flexes her arms, going through the motion of launching a spear. 'Magnificent, isn't she? All that virtue and compassion... gone with the snap of a bowstring. She becomes the weapon.' Her sincere admiration is clear. 'Tell me. Did you ever wonder why such a personable creature would submerge her bleeding heart so utterly?'

'Her clan is pathetic. I would forget myself given her lot.'

'No doubt, but she is not you.' I watch Ashe line up another shot. Her strong, lovely fingers trace the width of her bosom, which swells with each ragged breath. 'She _burns_ with desire. The quietest echo of a woman's voice is _torture_.'

I can empathise. Kalista's voice makes my skin crawl. 'You enjoy this.'

'Of course. The high and mighty brought low by the purity of base want? My greatest thralls are born that way.'

Ashe contemplates her garden from the doorway, a hand above her swollen belly. I choke and press my knuckles to my breast. If I see _anyone_ who could be the father, no deity would stay my hand. Kalista watches me with that revolting expression, dumb as a grotesque painting. 'Don't look at me!' I yell and she does comply, out of consideration or disgust.

I wish I could turn my eyes from Ashe. Her skin glows like honey.

Months fly by and she holds the babe in her arms. I have struck down creatures from the void but few sights compare to this. Her child has _no face_.

I look frantically about as people emerge from their homes. The faceless are now legion, their thin arms and fat bodies mingle in the roads. The collective fear is palpable. They avoid one another until the streets are empty. Generations haunt each yard, moving soil and placing rocks in fussy and meaningless ways. Even those projects are abandoned, and the faceless peer from windows... forever. Nothing changes. Ashe is nowhere to be seen.

'With your death, the Avarosan triumph,' says Kalista. 'Ashe falls but the monstrous order she birthed lives on. The Winter's Claw have no direction without you or Volibear.' She walks along the roof. Her bare feet leave the surface and grip the air. 'The people are comfortable with laws and infrastructure providing their means. Personal contact is a distant memory. No paths need cross. Every room is a castle and every soul, a sovereign.'

I feel nothing. My legs move unbidden, following Kalista's lead. 'This is not life.'

'It is naught but sadness and fear.' Kalista surveys the ruin. Once-human blobs cower before her scrutiny. 'Is it a price worth paying for deliverance from grief, the chance blows of an uncaring world? Perhaps… but I have my own thoughts.' Kalista reaches for the stars and drives earthward, summoning the rage of heaven, a foul chorus of disembodied heads. They whirl through the streets, drawing lifeless bodies into the eye of a deathly hurricane. Falling spears block out the sky... and we are back in the present.

The dome returns. I see my bloody, shattered corpse. The view is troubling. I am weak and vulnerable, childlike. Recalling the vision of my teenage self, I wonder how far I truly came. Volibear and Tryndamere are down, holding on to life, but they will not survive without help. Tryndamere is gouged and broken, Volibear, encased within a tomb of ice.

Udyr is on the run with Ashe on his back. Her eyes are dull with grief. I had to applaud his logic. Upon my death, he had switched armies without sentiment, knowing Lissandra could not reign unopposed. I doubt the Avarosan would appreciate his ways but that is their loss. Trundle gallops in pursuit, a laughable sight. If he truly believed that he was a "king", he would not be a witch's pet. Lissandra herself glides on a chariot of ice, using her magic randomly to phase through walls. The hunt is beneath her. Evidently, it is more impressive to guess at Udyr's location and hope for an easy kill.

Kalista follows the chase with her commentary. 'Udyr is fast but he can't run forever. Ashe is ruined. Seeing her love killed before her eyes, mere seconds after holding a miracle,' she indicates my bracelet, 'was too much for her. Eventually, Udyr will have no choice. He will abandon her to save himself. Her death will weaken the soul of the Freljord, melting the dome.'

I choke with rage and sorrow. After everything, I must watch Ashe die? I could have taken her life with honour, not sentenced her to this drawn-out end as a vacant husk. 'So Lissandra triumphs? I will _not_ allow this!'

'You have seen the future, or have you forgotten? Anivia descends to rally the survivors. She may not be an inspiration but she is clever and tenacious. Between her, Udyr and their allies, they grind Lissandra's advance to a halt. A portion of the Freljord is gone forever but the Avarosan endure.'

I am sick of Kalista's tales. 'I do not believe you.'

'Why?'

'If the future is written then why involve yourself? Why show _me_?' I circle her, as if a new angle would betray her secrets. 'You would not yank my chain, torment me with failure, unless...'

With a dull thunderclap, everything goes dark. When I see again, Kalista holds a mighty barbed spear of the dullest black. Her eyes glow with hunger. 'We are beyond time. Any action _we_ take changes everything.' She offers her weapon. 'Answer fate's call. Swear yourself to vengeance and she is thine.'

'Lissandra is my enemy… but if she does not shape the future, her death changes nothing.'

Kalista grins, a skull would convey more natural feeling. 'Simple fool, you have no special hatred for her. She is your foe but an honest one. The grand betrayer... is _you_.'

I reel from her accusation but I _know_ Kalista's words. They echo in my mind, feeding back into a shrieking wall of guilt.

'Your hesitation, your weak heart, doomed those who trusted in your strength. Had you struck Ashe without pause, there might still be hope.' Kalista draws near. I can smell blood. The air around me thickens. 'Take the oath and I will send you home… to a life of pain without salvation, your vision of the Freljord gone forever. You may lead and conquer but you will stumble into darkness. Your only pleasure will be your deepest wound. Find redemption through the survival of your clan and offer penance through the shameful, desperate love of your worst enemy.'

I look upon the battlefield. We could still win. Udyr is a match for anyone in close combat. If I could prevent or misguide Lissandra's magic for an instant...

An easy decision, if you are not a coward. The Freljord is wild and untamed. It does not need my "direction", just an arm to battle the tides of weakness and depravity. I snatch the weapon from Kalista.

Power snakes through every nerve and muscle, claiming each fibre as an instrument of vengeance. The agony drives me to the ground. My blood bubbles with emptiness. A cold permanence locks around my wrist, joining the golden shackle I already bear. At this rate, the cumulative chains will rip my body and soul apart. It would be a mercy.

Through the haze of torment, I see Kalista's face, curiously unmoved by my acceptance. 'The oath is taken,' she says flatly. Now her task is over she can drop her mortal façade. No doubt, I will have plenty of time to discover what she is really like. Wielding our bond like a rope, she tugs and my spirit flies. 'Come, Sejuani! Fate calls for you!' My vision floods with green as I writhe on the precipice of life. Before me, Trundle and Lissandra corner Udyr.

Strangely, Udyr is not struggling for breath. He could still run. Does he know I am here? Is he baiting them for me?

I feel Kalista's powerful arm tense, upon my word, she will fire.

'Now!'

* * *

The speed! Even Bristle in full flight does not compare. My innards are crushed together. I scream until my lungs collapse. Trundle and Lissandra are heavier than me but I strike with incredible force, bowling them to the ground. I swing my flail, battering them senseless with arctic fury. Lissandra's mouth curls in a disbelieving snarl. I know what is coming and I embrace it. She explodes with magic. My body is crushed, burnt, pierced and gouged with ice. I laugh through the pain as Lissandra's claw squeezes the life out of me.

Her panicked volley of spells wasn't enough... and now, she is defenceless.

Udyr soars on wings of fire. Lissandra can do nothing but melt before the onslaught. Trundle's gnashing teeth may drain strength but they do nothing to curb Udyr's blaze. With my final reserves, I empower my weapon, freezing Trundle before he can escape.

Victory is ours. No doubt, Lissandra will reform and her trollish pet will regenerate but… for now...

I collapse. All I can do is breathe and pray my heart keeps beating. Udyr sits by me, cross-legged. It is rare to see him pause. The chase had exhausted him. After a quiet moment, he speaks. 'I knew there was a chance if I could stall them.'

'Your instincts?' I whisper. My vocal folds remain silent.

'Experience. I have been on the losing side many times before. I'm still here.'

'Yes,' if I could turn my head and look at her… 'you saved Ashe.'

'Don't complain. Someone had to oppose Lissandra.'

'I understand. Thank you.'

Udyr laughs, a dark but welcome sound. 'I would rather have _you_ back.' Above, the cage slowly dissolves, revealing the sun. I'd never been so grateful to see it. As the rays thaw my skin, I feel a heavy tread echo through the ground. Huge paws, alive with static, lift my body. The electrical residue is ticklish but not unpleasant.

I worship no gods but praise the storm for preserving its chosen. Volibear gently brushes my hair. 'Oh no.' His maw twitches. Do bears cry? I don't want to know. 'Sejuani, my girl, what have you done?'

He can see the void in my soul. 'I did what I must.'

'If I had acted sooner...'

'Don't excuse my frailty. This foolish heart is mine to bear and I have... paid the price.'

'It was too high. Ursine or Winter's Claw, you are _my_ tribe and you will _not_ suffer alone.'

'I am not your "girl" and I can stand on my own two feet.'

He lowers his head to mine. 'Not today.'

I can't argue. If I am too weak to escape his arms then I should not earn the dignity of standing tall. 'Then could you put me on Bristle? I don't want anyone to see me like this.'

'Of course.'

In the corner of my sight, Udyr flashes green, raising his shield. Craning my neck, I see Ashe, a gleaming arrow knocked to her bow. Now I am alive, her spirit has returned. Behind her, limps Tryndamere, his greatsword carving a trench in the rime. Despite his injuries, he needs only one arm to swing his blade.

Ashe approaches carefully. The arrow is a promise of mutual destruction. Even if Volibear and Udyr send her to the void, I would not survive the blast. Her voice is damaged yet bold. 'Will she live?'

I am too weary to answer. Volibear speaks for me. 'In a way.'

Ashe regards me with fear and wonder. 'I thought you were...' her voice breaks. I can just about look at her and deny my love but the comeliness of her voice weakens me so. 'Is there anything I can do?'

Anger rises in Volibear's growl. 'Become the foe that she deserves.'

I whisper my thanks to him. Ashe appears forlorn but understanding. 'I don't think anyone could.' Throwing back her cowl, she steps forward, a challenge. 'The Winter's Claw saved my life. Come to my lands in peace and I will greet you with open arms.' My vision is weak but I can hear that crooked smile. 'Disappointed, Sejuani? If you oppose me, why should I say what you want to hear? You do not set the terms of our engagement. No matter how hard you fight, I will _never_ give up on you!'

She kisses her first two fingers and touches the air in farewell. On her way back, she goes to help Tryndamere but he waves off her aid. She laughs and stubbornly props him up. They leave, bickering without malice. I guess they truly are married, even if their bed is cold.

Udyr follows at a safe distance to ensure they leave without incident. Ashe is not above setting an ambush, even now.

I don't think I'd have her any other way.

Volibear grumbles. 'After you saved us, the _least_ she could do is honour your principles. As a paramour, she is careless and ungrateful. You could do better.'

'She probably thought the same when I died.'

'That _was_ inconsiderate. For the sake of my old heart, don't do that again.'

'I can't make any promises.' For a brief moment, I felt weightless. Volibear's simple complaint about Ashe's behaviour was so… _normal_. I was not a chieftain or a raider, just a woman, and Ashe was just a woman who was bad for me.

Perhaps in another life…

Udyr returns from his mission. 'They are slow. We can go home, take this settlement and entrench before Ashe can clean the snow from her boots.'

I nod in approval. 'Then why are we stalling?'

Even if I am blind, others can look ahead. I don't need to see the future when I can _write_ it.


	5. Prey - Chapter 1

_Ashe_

* * *

**Prey – Chapter 1**

This is my battlefield.

I swear that, every morning, this gown weighs more and this whalebone corset shrinks. Am I growing weak and fat? I've spent enough time at archery practice. Maybe I'm just the wrong side of twenty-five. The last few months have added years to my life.

The heavy wig bothers my tortured roots. "Royal Freljordian Blue" is made from a toxic dye so it can't touch my scalp. Under a coarse net, my poor natural locks are tied and rammed full of pins. It would be easier if I wore my hair short but it's never suited me. Even if I am Queen, I'm allowed _some_ pleasure, right? I like to feel pretty.

Oh, how I treasure these moments, when I can forget about my _real_ problems.

Regrettably, I can't dress myself, the outfit is too complex, but I must retain some independence. I choose my perfume and earrings, apply make-up and varnish my nails. I like my hands. They're fine yet calloused, archer's hands, a pleasure to work on before tackling my face. Without light and shade, I look dull, too much, and I'm a painted trollop. I use the wrong lipstick and become a desperate widow. It's murder.

Tryndamere paces behind me. I catch his gaze in the mirror. 'Stop it.'

'You always do this.' He lumbers to my side, cluttering my artfully chosen border. I'm only going to take longer. Those colours are my reference. 'The moment you step into that banquet, you'll melt. Let it be.'

'It's all right for _you_.' He is dressed for _battle_ of all things, a big, vulgar display of rippling muscle and patchwork plate. 'I don't know why I let you off. People might think we're in love.'

'That's a new word. You might even get around to "patience" and "humility".'

'You'd better not try that line on our guests.'

'Nah, Demacians are a tough crowd. That's why I'm wearing this.' He knocks twice on his helmet. 'They'll be in full armour. Just you watch.'

'So I'm casting my pearls before swine.' There's a dusting of powder on my collar. If that gets wet, my look is ruined. I grab a clean brush. 'I could have worn my cloak and spared myself the trouble.'

'You enjoy it.'

'Why? Because I'm a woman?'

His nostrils flare in disgust. 'I can't imagine your girlfriend bothering much.'

'That's a strange term for our implacable foe. I suppose the Winter's Claw are just a ruse to draw my attention.'

'Heroes have slain dragons, moved mountains and razed kingdoms to win the hearts of their fair maidens.' He presents me, like a punchline, to an unseen crowd.

'You do know that most of your epic tales are fiction?'

'Like Avarosa?'

'_Don't_ go there.' I quickly shift the conversation. History is one of the few subjects where Tryndamere and I really come to blows. Women don't feature in his pantheon. I wouldn't wish his past on anyone but if isolation hadn't blurred his prejudice, he would be intolerable. 'Sejuani could wear anything. Unlike me, she has height, shoulders, presence…'

'That what you call them? You got "presence" to spare, girl.'

'Thank you for proving my point.' I clear my throat. 'Announcing Tryndamere, the Barbarian King, Anivia, the Cryophoenix, Ashe… a pair of tits!'

'That would get _my_ attention.'

I make a snipping gesture with my fingers. 'You're so lucky I need an heir.' Gathering my skirts, I pirouette. 'Seriously, do I look all right?'

Tryndamere furrows his brow. 'Get your weapon.' I retrieve my bow and strike a pose, drawing back the string with all the power that my corset allows. A stitch comes loose. Watch out, boys. There are muscles beneath _my_ curves. Tryndamere whoops. 'That's more like it, Warrior-Queen of the Freljord! They'll be shaking in their boots.'

I try to stare down my reflection. 'Good.' Walking tall, I cross the room and tug at his elbow. 'Shall we make our entrance?'

'Let's knock 'em dead.'

We leave my chambers. The door closes with a boom that echoes down an empty corridor.

I tremble.

'Ashe!' Tryndamere catches me. I'm panting hard enough to rip a hole in my chest. My diaphragm clenches and acid blooms in every jagged breath. I'm scared. You can never step outside a panic attack. With enough alcohol or adrenaline, you can ride it out. Sometimes, you can lock it in a box while the wispy remnants of your mind stay afloat.

'I… felt her die… and she came back.' You don't forget the corpse of the one you love, her dead eyes and dead flesh upon you. The scar grows deeper with time. Sanity, bleeding from an open wound, congeals into a waking nightmare.

Tryndamere squeezes my arms. 'I know… but you've got to keep on.' He straightens my back. I fear my ribs will break from the pressure. All I want is to be naked and free, run through the palace with the royal goods on display. I have built a country and now I fantasise about losing it. 'You've worked hard for this alliance.'

'I know.'

'You deserve it.'

'We'll see.'

Tryndamere is not evil but I have resented him for too long, resented that noble grandeur came easily to a hulking brute while I had to sweat for my bearing. Every day I must prove myself to sycophants who nod at my every word and attack me in private.

Not like Sejuani, who would argue the colour of the sea until the rivers ran dry, counter my every thought and premise, but this proud, beautiful woman, who would die before conceding an inch, looked into my eyes and called me a _goddess_.

You will be mine, Sejuani. Once I have the aid of Demacia, you will have no choice but to surrender. I will not let you fall again.

* * *

We pass the balcony. Whenever I host important visitors, I put a guard here to thwart assassins. One day, I will relax here with my bow and make Tryndamere hold court.

A huge, spherical man blocks our view. He guffaws at our approach. 'Your Majesty! Your Maje_stress_!'

We've excused Gragas from bowing, in case he rolls over and levels the palace. It was Tryndamere who thought that one up. He was once so enamoured with the joke that he spent a whole day expounding it. I can't remember the grand finale, some drivel about Ionia and Piltover collaborating on a hextech see-saw to balance the world.

Gragas rubs his palms together. 'I knew you'd come this way. Feast your eyes on _this_!' With a sweep of his arm, he presents his work. The spread is glorious, traditional fayre laid out in unique portions for our guests, rather than a communal free-for-all. Our dining habits can upset the unwitting. Every place has a tankard, filled to the brim with Gragas' newest concoction.

He really is an asset. I have to smile, despite my anxiety. 'They'll be telling stories in Demacia for generations to come.'

Gragas pats his belly. 'Hospitality's my game, Your Worship.' He blithely rotates honorifics to "keep me grounded". 'And I play to win.'

Three Demacians perform a sweep of the hall. I recognise two of them, Xin Zhao and Luxanna Crownguard. Xin is obsessively thorough, poking his spear into every corner, showing no respect for our trophies or bunting. Lux babbles at anyone who comes near. I can see her method. She talks so loudly and quickly that people answer questions to be left in peace.

The third person is… I'm not sure, a little hunchback, wearing the most eccentric armour I've seen in years, a feathered helm and cloak, dwarfing a tiny frame in a skin-tight suit. Maybe it's a homunculus? The bobbing head evokes puppetry, not organic motion.

It whirls at alarming speed. The fierce, amber glare of a predator bores into my throat. I cower. Damn this weak heart! I am Queen. I have every right to observe my domain.

Running blind, I smack my elbow on Tryndamere's gauntlet. While my nerves rattle with pain, he talks me down. 'Easy… have you seen a ghost?'

'I'm not sure.'

Gragas waddles over to the balcony. 'Aye… the birdwoman, queer sight that.'

I try to recall her face. All I can remember are those eyes. 'That's a woman?'

'Eh… girl, more like, second one here after Xin. She had this giant eagle. Spoke to it before she came in. Don't know where it's gone.'

'They spoke?'

'Looked that way but she ain't said a word to _me_. Perhaps it were "caw caw caw".'

Is that eagle watching us? It could be invisible. Once we're done, I'll ask Braum to ward any high ceilings. 'I just didn't think Demacia was that… weird.'

Tryndamere shrugs. 'You get oddballs everywhere.'

I was disappointed. If that great beacon of stability held such madness then what hope was there for me?

* * *

The revels commence. To my surprise, the Demacians have brought entertainment, an exotic musician whose counterpoint is far too subtle for a boisterous crowd. She adapts well, finding a spot next to Braum and embellishing his tales. No doubt, she's wonderful, but I'm stuck at the head of my table, appearing "radiant" and "crystalline". It's impossible to eat without spoiling the effect, and this gown crushes my appetite. All I can do is get drunk.

I enjoy the preliminaries. Jarvan IV is lankier and scruffier than I expected, more of an otter than a bear. He's too craggy for his golden armour, especially when I picture the long, hairy body within. I relax, knowing that we both struggle. For a shameful instant, I'm proud of Tryndamere's natural charisma.

Just when I'm feeling happy and secure, they introduce Jarvan's half-dragon warrior.

I swear blind that Shyvana was brought solely to dazzle foes with the most perfect exhibition of lustrous female power in all of Runeterra. She's barely dressed! How could they do this to me? I have no choice but to imagine the molten smell and taste of those bare thighs and midriff, those tendons of steel beneath scale. Are they sensitive? Would she growl at the first touch and roar when…?

Tryndamere punches my arm. 'Eyes up. She's dangerous.'

Ugh, don't tell me she's dangerous. You're making it worse. 'I'm not…'

'Have you seen where your hand is?'

'My _stomach_ hurts!' We both watch her navigate the hall. She turns her back to find her seat. Oh, the _angle_ of that skirt…

'Wow.' Even Tryndamere is lost for words. 'You've got taste. I'll give you that.'

Anivia has the required impact. She bursts through the door to gasps of admiration and spreads her wings atop her jewel-encrusted perch. A legendary creature is a diplomatic boon… until she crows like a disapproving matron and upsets everyone. If she keeps her mouth shut and looks impressive, we're all good.

Birdwoman is not introduced. Poor form, if you ask me. Even servants are typically announced. I will query her presence when the time comes.

For now, I can do little but observe in resplendent boredom and try not to scratch myself while people are watching. My reports tell me that Jarvan isn't one for court so backroom dialogue will take precedence over any display. Tryndamere has the freedom to mingle. He does the rounds, helps himself to other people's food and returns, looking baffled. 'I can't be doing with this.'

'What have you learnt?'

'They're a pack of stupid, ham-fisted bootlickers. I suppose Lux is fun in small doses… or with something in her mouth. Jarvan's all right. He's obliged to talk nonsense. The rest have got no excuse. Your ogling of Shyvana went unnoticed, by the way.'

'Don't bring that up again.' Since when am _I_ the embarrassment? 'Who's the girl they're hiding?'

'I couldn't get near. Bounced off Xin and Garen as I tried.'

'That's fine. She's not a priority.' I hope that she doesn't prowl the corridors at night, looking for people to assassinate.

The banquet goes well. Gragas wouldn't let me down. Today is all about making sure the Demacians get plenty of sleep after their long journey. If they're tired and grumpy, it won't help our case.

We have a week to persuade them of our worth. I pray that nothing goes wrong.


	6. Prey - Chapter 2

**Prey – Chapter 2**

Alcohol and I make poor bedfellows. It saps my energy _and_ keeps me awake. I'm itchy and hot. Bed-sheets wrap around my legs. I have to please Demacia, foil Lissandra and resolve my feud with Sejuani. It's too much. I'm boiling with stress.

Only Sejuani would die both to save my life _and_ to spite me. I don't know what happened at our last encounter. Volibear did. I saw it in his glowing eyes, crackling with paternal rage. He held Sejuani close, away from me, and held his tongue.

One question torments my every waking hour. How did she get that bracelet, the one from my dream?

I remember it well.

* * *

_Sejuani was a childhood playmate from the wrong side of the tracks. We were active children, so we crossed paths while exploring the countryside. She found her calling before she left school, working all-hours for the mountain rescue service. My goal was an Olympic medal for archery, a dream that wrecked my first impetuous marriage. I had the talent, sponsorship and determination but none of those things would keep a roof over my head. My parents were no help. Their business had failed and, after my divorce, our relationship was poor. _

_Sejuani disapproved of my carelessness but drove me everywhere, "loaned" me the extra money for utilities and performed odd jobs, fitting my desk, fixing my pushbike. Once, I called in the middle of the night because my flat had sprung a leak. She turned up, looking rather dishevelled, and spent five hours on the problem. I screamed loud enough to wake the dead when she started improvising with a gas-powered soldering iron. However, it worked well enough that I could finally turn off my sodden vacuum cleaner. She went to the hardware store at daybreak to finish the task._

_While Sejuani chugged a well-earned coffee, her mobile phone rang. A distorted female voice rattled the speaker unit. Sejuani explained where she had been. All colour drained from her cheeks. With a simple, "okay," she hung up. I asked what was wrong. Sejuani said that a friend was staying at her flat. I cheerfully asked for a name, in case it was someone we both knew._

_No, and they wouldn't be seeing each other again. Sejuani looked utterly defeated then confessed that she was gay. I'll never forget the tone of her voice. It wasn't like she was baring her soul or declaring her trust. It was like she had lost a bet. _

_Afterwards, I couldn't stop imagining sex with her but it wasn't fair to trouble Sejuani with my puerile obsession. I had to get over it and treat her like a person, rather than a toy._

_She didn't mention any future girlfriends. Life was the same. I was invited to an exhibition on the other side of the country. The first train wouldn't get me there on time. Sejuani insisted that I shouldn't be wasting money on hotels and offered to drive me there and back, even though she was working the night before._

_On the return journey, she fell asleep at the wheel and popped a tyre on the kerb. It wasn't a deadly accident but it scared me. While Sejuani caught her breath, I asked what she was thinking. Every time I wanted something, she would ruin her life to provide it. I wasn't going to stop being her friend if she said "no". _

_I had never seen her cry before. She took my hand._

_I'm not a nice person. When I lose my temper, I don't lash out physically, but emotionally. All this time, I would have accepted her love and she said _nothing_. Instead, she had nearly killed us both in an accident because she thought I was too greedy to want anything less than total submission._

_I kissed her, gently, to weaken her defence, then dropped her seat and mounted her. She moaned as I licked her neck and massaged her breasts. With so much feedback, I thought she might come from that alone. Eventually, she threw me aside. I earned a colourful bruise where my thigh struck the handbrake. _

_Sejuani didn't want to risk making love to me outside a relationship. I meant too much to her. For the first time in her life, she had refused me._

_I was overjoyed._

_We spent time as a couple. A week later, I was in her bed. A month later, I discovered that she _could_ orgasm without direct contact, a magical power if ever there was one. I don't think it's all that good for her but she rewards me if I misbehave. _

_I reached the Olympics but a chronic pain in my shoulder blossomed on the flight. Overwork and neglect had cost me full movement of my arm. I couldn't compete. I didn't even have the confidence to teach. Sejuani didn't lecture me this time. Unable to support myself, I moved into her flat. Neither of us talked as if it was the next stage. Hope was too precious to risk. The first week she was on nights, I cried myself to sleep. Eventually, I grew accustomed to her absence and hated myself for it but we needed her income._

_I had worked part-time in a jeweller's to support my training. Once the pain had gone, I increased my hours. My control and precision translated well and I progressed rapidly. There was no official promotion but I proudly recall the day that my employer referred to me as their "bench jeweller"._

_I didn't want to stay in the backroom forever, and opportunity knocked. One of our customers was from an organisation, flush with public funding. They introduced schoolchildren to practical disciplines. Their focus was engineering but they were deeply impressed with my craft and relative youth. After talking shop for an hour, they asked if I would join their academy. They could provide the necessary teaching qualifications while I worked as an assistant. _

_Sejuani was my rock. We had rough patches but, as time passed, it became clear that she was mine forever. I was dying for her to propose. When she didn't, I took the initiative. A ring was too dainty for my gorgeous tomboy. I never liked men's jewellery, too silly or apologetic, so I made her a bracelet, a wide, solid band that was more armour than decoration._

_When I proposed, it wasn't my finest hour. The sky was overcast and pregnant with rain. I had chosen a romantic pier as our backdrop. Sejuani loved it here. She loved the names of the yachts. I would rest my head on her chest while she told me the myth behind every _Grendel_, _Norn_ and _Cú Chullain_, her strong arms around me. I loved feeling her muscles tighten against my back when she felt the urge to hold me that little bit closer. Her hands were perfect, larger than mine but delicate enough to perform little miracles upon my skin._

_That day, there were no yachts, just a pair of rusty freighters. I don't know what happened. Instead of building a mood with our routine of snuggling and story-telling, I had to jump to the main course. I dropped to one knee, banged my leg and squeaked out a proposal through clenched teeth._

_Sejuani would have looked so much better doing this._

_Her legs quivered. She covered her face as if she could blind the world to her loud sobbing. Underneath her shirt, I could see the line of her ribcage move with each convulsion, my poor, stubborn Sejuani, ashamed of beauty without compare._

_The dam broke. She tackled me to the ground, smothering me with wet kisses and whimpering, "I do", "I love you so much" and "thank you" in endless combinations. The rear of my blouse was damp and filthy. I swore my bra had caught on something, a nail, a splinter?_

_I had hoped that she would sweep me off my feet and carry me along the pier but I didn't complain as the weight of her body felt _very_ nice. I giggled at the thought that people were watching our display and tutting their disapproval. Though it was tempting to hook my leg around her waist and caress her bottom with my foot, she gets embarrassed easily and I couldn't be mean, especially as she… loved me… she _really_ loved me and… wanted to spend the rest of her life with me._

_When it sunk in, I wrapped everything around her, squeezing our bodies together as if they would become one. I cried freely. I didn't care if it wasn't perfect. I didn't want anything to change, least of all my sweet, vulnerable Sejuani._

* * *

_I awoke with a new sense of purpose. If we were to bond, I had to be the catalyst. Looking down at my pillow, the receptacle of my dream, my hair, sweat and spit, skin flakes held with grease, a drop of blood from an old cut on my lip, all that I am, both vile and pure, I had an idea._

_I would send her the dream of my proposal._

_Walking into the night, I journeyed across her territory, navigating a safe route with my hawk spirit. When I reached her encampment, with numb fingers, I tied my pillow case to an arrow. The shot flew, metaphorically, to Sejuani's heart._

_Months later, we met, and the bracelet was on her arm._

_She had _accepted_._

* * *

I give up on sleep. Thoughts rampage through my body, howling for release.

Donning a simple top and skirt, I grab my training bow and head to the range. The hall is large enough to be an indulgence, but a celebrated one. The Archer-Queen of the Freljord should have amenities that reflect her prowess.

I hear the pitter-patter of footsteps and the thunk of steel on wood. It is reassuring that our archers take pride in their skill. I would have preferred my own company but, armed with a bow, I can ignore everything. I slide open the hatch before opening the door. Entering blind is a real danger, especially when archers combine tournaments with drinking games.

It is only Birdwoman. So the Demacians have more rigour. No doubt, she is composing a report on the laziness of my troops. Feeling hostile, I seek faults in her technique. She does not aim from a secure base. Her legs dance wildly as her head remains fixed. There is something crab-like about her movement. She hunches so deep, I wonder if she is crippled.

Her accuracy is not ideal but impressive. Building speed, she darts in, kicks off the target and somersaults. I gasp in awe. She is evidently a gymnast with a crossbow rather than a pure archer. When she lands, her shot just misses the outer bullseye.

For a woman so young, her conditioning is remarkable. I doubt there's any spare flesh on that wiry physique.

Amber eyes rotate, shining like torches. 'Who's there?' She _can_ talk. Her voice wavers. 'I… I can hear you breathing. If you mean no harm then show yourself!'

Was I panting like a lecherous old man? I can't let Tryndamere's words affect me. Perhaps Birdwoman isn't fully human and has improved senses. It would explain the eyes and crooked posture.

I step through the door. She quickly sizes me up, judging my clothes, weapon and bearing. Even when I'm dressed for battle, I'm not a clear threat. In my common garb, I look like a peasant girl who's just rolled out of the hay. After a gallon of mead and a sleepless night, I'm as tousled and flushed as a woman who's had a far better time.

'Oh,' she waves in greeting then quickly drops her hand like it brushed something hot. 'I was just… have you come to practise? Am I in the way?'

Despite her strange outfit, her voice is very plain, that of a shy girl who's out of her depth. It makes me feel protective. 'Yes, I have come to train and, no, you're not in my way.'

Overwhelmed by my friendly reply, Birdwoman smiles, rather too eagerly. She has very nice teeth. I've always been ashamed of mine. Demacia must have good dentists, another reason to ally with them.

I wouldn't fix Sejuani's teeth. I used to think they were sharp and jagged from crunching the bones of her enemies but now I see only a vampire bunny rabbit. I imagine her broken fangs, her little wounds, scraping my tongue as I kiss her deeply.

While I'm lost in thought, Birdwoman realises that she's been standing there, grinning, without saying anything. Embarrassed, she covers her face. 'Oh, thank you… sorry. Did you want to use _my_ target or…'

She is adorable. 'Oh, my,' I trace my neckline, feeling more sloshed than sultry. I am only teasing. It doesn't matter if I look foolish. 'Are all Demacians so bold?'

Her ears turn bright red. 'Erm… well, yes, but not in the way you…' her voice trails off.

I did not expect that. She is genuinely worried that she made a pass at me. Why would she consider that? I'm intrigued. 'What way _did_ I mean?' She looks ready to bolt. 'Ooh, I shouldn't make fun of you, sorry.'

'It's okay. Even back home, I… struggle with new people. I always get the wrong end of the stick or…'

…fail to complete sentences. 'You don't have to struggle with me. What's your name?'

'Quinn,' a name for both genders. I never liked mine with that horrid "e" slapped on the end, like a pink bow on a yak.

If I'm new to her, she must not recognise me. At the banquet, I had flowing blue hair, no dark bags under my eyes, and my curves were strapped into a more regal shape. Also, I can't envisage a Demacian passing up the chance to say "Your Majesty" and scrape at the floor.

The idea makes me cringe. I am tired of being Queen, fake relationships, having the world on my back, losing sleep without the woman I love.

If I could just be someone else…

'Quinn.' I like the sound of it, country air, playful spirits and roguish verve. 'It suits you.' Her disappointment is clear. She may have suffered as a child, mistaken for a boy. 'My name is Sian. I'm a scout for the Avarosan.' Her eyes go hard, resuming the feral glow of our first meeting. She repeats my alias many times. It's uncanny. I've known soldiers who perform similar rituals when processing orders. That must be how she retains information. 'Pleased to meet you.'

She removes her glove and gingerly accepts my hand. 'Likewise.' For a moment, she lightly strokes her thumb across my fingers, as if debating whether to draw them to her lips. Unfortunately, she decides on a firm handshake. At least she was thinking about it.

Gallantry from women is a rare treat for me. I recall that some martial traditions nurture same-sex desire. The Rakkor have inspired rumours. I'd never heard anything about the Demacians, though I daresay that magnificent half-dragon would give any woman ideas.

Quinn has tiny, strong hands. Her grip is warm, sweaty and insistent. After she lets go, I feel a sudden urge to lick my palm and know her taste. I am going mad with loneliness. Even if I'm undercover, I must affect some virtue. 'Are you not sleeping? I know the chill can stay all night long if it reaches your bones. Do you want any more bedding?'

'Oh, I'm fine, thank you. I slept after the meal. I'm a night owl so if complications arise then…'

'I understand.' A watchwoman, it's good that she has leave to roam. Jarvan must have faith in her instincts.

'My room is wonderful. I grew up in a barn, so any bed is a luxury. My partner _loves_ his perch. Few hosts acknowledge him at all.'

'Your partner?' She means the eagle but there's no way "Sian" would know that. Anivia must have organised the perch behind my back. For once, her meddling is welcome.

'Valor, he's exploring the wilderness, trying Freljordian cuisine.' It's clear that she's proud of her unusual friend, and surprising people with his identity makes a good ice-breaker. 'He's a Demacian eagle.'

'I hope he doesn't get lost. There are some big predators out there.'

'He'll be fine. I'm glad he's enjoying himself. He was a nightmare on the journey, bothering the horses and "pre-emptively" striking bandits that wouldn't come near us. I thought that Shyvana was going to eat him!'

'Is that likely?' Never mind that. Eaten by Shyvana, is that arousing?

'If she ever catches him!' She can joke when talking about Valor, curious. I've always been torn about people who socialise with animals and make them a crutch in human company. It's lazy to mock. They adapt to chaos and indifference by finding understandable complexity within basic patterns. I think we all do that. 'I'm kidding. Shyvana's a big softy around His Majesty. She wouldn't eat anyone if it upset him.'

I'm starting to feel jealous. 'That's good to know. She must be very loyal.'

'Just a bit, she'd sleep at the foot of his bed if he'd let her.'

'She can always keep _my_ feet warm.'

Quinn laughs awkwardly. 'Erm… yeah… I wouldn't tell her that.' She goes quiet and shuffles away.

I'm coming on too strong. Am I trying to bully Quinn, force her to confront a secret longing that may not exist? I'm so angry at my own repression that I'm laying my vice on her. If I'm in no state to handle the power of anonymity, I should resume course and take up my bow. 'Sorry, I was drinking earlier and I get a bit silly when I'm tired. I came here to practise because I couldn't sleep.'

'It's fine. Don't let me stop you.'

I set up a fair distance from Quinn. All I need is one target and one arrow, purity. I never wanted anything to do with violence but I had to sublimate this urge. All my dreams hinged on being an insider. I could not do something as radical as love women.

Archery was a hidden gem, buried within the repellent machismo and bombast of war, instead of noise, a beautiful, silent dialogue between life and motion. What began as a distraction became a righteous calling. I was _good_ at this. There was no angst, fear or hatred. I could reduce the world to a single point and hit it every time. It felt so natural that I marvelled at how anyone struggled. Apparently, my focus was unique.

Circles echo from a target like ripples on a lake. I count them down… one hundred… eighty… sixty…

Zero.

Peace.

I don't recall letting go. I am nothing… and I am reborn. An arrow quivers in my target.

Again.

I breathe. Air fills my body, clean, flowing from my lungs, irrigating my veins.

…

My skin crawls. Yellow eyes are watching me with intent. Frantically, I turn and see Quinn gawping. 'Wow,' she says. 'I don't mean to stare but… you're _really _good.'

I regain my composure. 'Thank you.'

She is nearly bouncing with excitement. 'I always trained to _fight_ rather than shoot. It's all very modern, very practical. I love it… but seeing your classical poise and your…' she looks away briefly, 'arms, I… appreciate what I've missed.'

My biceps often languish in the dark of my bosom. It's rare for me to feel potent rather than decorative. Quinn is very small. Compared to her, I'm a large, virile barbarian. At any moment, I could grab a fistful of hair, push her face into the ground and plunder her virtue.

After challenging the rule of might for so long, I never dreamt that _I_ could fill that role… but now, I see Quinn on all-fours, baring her throat in ecstasy, my nails marking her flesh.

What monster has this girl awakened? I must show mercy and benevolence, use my power to nurture Quinn's. 'Trust me, the feeling's mutual. I could never attempt your backflips.'

'Oh, I just move quickly. I've got no control. Valor despairs at how I flap!'

'Your friend is that critical?'

'Positively!'

Can she _really_ talk with the bird? I'm not sure if there's a polite way of asking. A sentient animal like Anivia or Volibear should have attended our banquet. Either Demacia is hiding something or Quinn is more damaged than I thought. Both possibilities are dangerous. I must avoid the subject until I know more. 'If I show discipline, it's because I learnt archery for that purpose. I hate bloodshed.'

Quinn slumps. My reason did sound oppressively noble. 'I was just another socially awkward peasant-girl who dreamt of knighthood. Because I was frail, I needed a shortcut. With a crossbow, you just pull a trigger... dead.' She aims her weapon at my chest. I'm too experienced to show weakness but my heart skips a beat. If she meant harm, she could have easily killed me. 'When you close the gap, you don't even have to aim. All I've done is follow the path of least resistance.'

'That would serve you well in the dark corners of the Freljord.'

'With enough light, there'd be no call for my trade.'

'Or mine.'

'Off the battlefield, you're an artist.' Quinn ruefully clenches her hand. 'I'm just a thug.'

'Nonsense, you could easily be a dancer.'

'I don't know.' She's avoiding my gaze, inviting pursuit. 'If I had _your_ elegance…'

I offer my weapon. 'Do you want some pointers?'

'I'd only embarrass myself.'

'No you won't.' I close her fingers around the bow. 'Come on.' I hold her waist and guide her into position. Her hip-bones are very prominent, exquisitely forged little tools waiting to be used. 'You're left-handed?'

'Yes… is that a problem?'

'No, I was just curious. With your fighting style, I could easily picture a blade in your empty hand.'

'Valor's my right hand. If you gave me a sword, I'd cut myself.'

'I know the feeling.' Her posture is overly dramatic, as if she's posing for a sculpture. I tidy up what I can. 'A wide base is very good but you're too low. You'll only see what's right under your nose if you do the splits.' I guide her feet closer together. Her calves are like girders, holding up a shrine. 'Keep your pelvis square. You're tilting… no that's too far.'

'I can't find my centre.'

'You're doing fine.' Her buttocks are firm and tight with a deliciously steep curve at the top of her strong thighs. I feel a bit… wobbly in comparison.

I place my hands either side of her abdomen. She's like a young tree, hard and knotted with muscle. I can feel every sudden breath at my exploration. I wrap an arm across the top of breasts and push back her collarbone. 'Stand tall and proud,' I say. 'Look up. Imagine the sky, a mountain. See your power and beauty reflected there.' It breaks me to see her with no confidence. 'Relax your shoulders.' Her hair is tangled and a bit oily. Strands break off around my fingers. The purple colour is a dye that stains. I lift her fine porcelain chin. She sucks on her fair lips.

I think about kissing her. It would be so easy. I don't love her but… she's _here_. Damn you, Sejuani, for being so close yet so far. My body craves your absent touch.

Now that Quinn is upright, I can see that she's a woman and not a creepy bird-thing. She's taller than I presumed, her teeth by my jugular. With her solid core, she might be heavier than me. If we fought then she could hold _me_ down and… no, I am _still_ in control, guiding her with my touches, massaging her neck. 'You're tensing up again. You need to draw the string with your _body_, not your arms.' My hair skims her temple as I follow her trajectory. 'Now fire.'

The arrow misses by a yard.

Quinn looks at me. Our faces are barely an inch apart. She laughs in desperation. 'That was awful!'

'Accuracy takes time. You did well to shoot.'

'I know the basics already. I should do better.'

'Hush!' I kiss her on the cheek. 'Don't be so hard on yourself.' She cowers like a mouse. The fog lifts. I've crossed a line. This isn't drawing Quinn from her shell. I'm breaking in, scoffing my due like the Winter's Claw. 'Oh, I didn't mean to impose.'

'No… no, I'm…' she hides her glow, 'not used to being touched is all.'

'I'll stop if you don't like it.'

'I don't… _dis_like it, I'm just… I haven't trained with another human since my brother died.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault.' She smiles. 'It's good that you…ahem.' Quinn stammers before she sounds too eager. 'I need to spread my wings. Get used to people. You're helping.'

'I'm glad.' She looks disappointed. Was that an invitation? I don't trust my judgement at all right now. Perhaps, if I caught up on sleep, I could enjoy this dance without hurting us both.

She must have sensed that I'm pulling away. 'Do you come here often?'

I can't have her asking around like "Sian" is part of the castle furniture. 'Not really but…' I yawn, 'I can make an effort while you're here.'

'Oh, don't put yourself out.'

'Stop that. You're nice. Why wouldn't I make the most of you?' I stroke her arm. It's a deliberate gesture, more than friendly but only if she wants it to be. 'Goodnight, Quinn.'

'Goodnight, Sian.'

* * *

I return to my bedroom, hot and weary. The sheets are cool, crisp and invigorating, urging me to passion, not rest. It's impossible to relax as my thighs brush the linen but the very thought of coming alone moves me to tears. I ache to be held and touched. My bosom feels empty. I need to be strong for my people but I am going _mad_.

By the time I fall asleep, it is dawn.


	7. Prey - Chapter 3

**Prey – Chapter 3**

The Demacians pull no punches. There are six of us at the table, Nunu and Tryndamere at my side, opposite Lux, Jarvan and Xin Zhao. Nunu is my secret weapon. He knows the resources of the Freljord better than anyone. Lux's dogged questions about fifty year crop forecasts, hunting quotas, road-building and population diversity are plainly dispatched. Nunu doesn't have to learn my reports, he sees through the matrix of geography as a mathematical savant perceives numbers.

Tryndamere is both confident and sanguine about our military strength. I had warned him not to oversell. Any questions about goals and principles are my field. Jarvan is not simple. He has formal training in ethics and can divide style from substance. As I can't compete with his education, I err on the side of looking a fool rather than a hypocrite. Exhaustion dulls my gravitas but I do not offend him.

Xin does not speak much. He is there as Jarvan's bodyguard. Lux is our true opposition. Behind her vacant grin and manic laughter is a mind like a bear trap. I can't help my resentment. She is younger than me but far brighter. The children are leaving me for dust. Mercifully, I do not find her attractive. I would not have coped with Shyvana… or Quinn. I would have spent the whole day rubbing her calf with my foot and watching her squirm.

When we are finished, I praise Nunu to the skies, utterly amazed that a youth could handle the pressure of international diplomacy. He grins and tells me that it's a different world. It's easy to forget the consequences when they pass him by. If all life were driven from this land, he would remain, somehow. Thankfully, he is kind and values our friendship.

Likewise, Tryndamere is not invested. He doesn't care for the Demacians and feels no need to impress them, even if he likes the idea of a big army to "give Sejuani's fat arse a good spanking". His lewd comments about women grow frequent and conspiratorial. I don't know what he is thinking. It could be that my denial of him was compelling evidence of my sexuality. Maybe he suspects nothing and just finds it funny to hurt and embarrass me through innuendo.

I would rather think that he is a shallow egotist than I am hopelessly transparent.

* * *

At night, I can forget myself. "Sian" doesn't have to mind the fate of countries, just one little Demacian. It's like stepping into a novel and basking in a stranger's romantic drama.

I had reflected on my behaviour, perhaps too much when other subjects required my focus. Quinn had welcomed my aggression but that was no excuse to override her unspoken fears. I want her to leave the Freljord happy, not regretful.

My plan is to overcome her shyness, encourage her to speak up. If she could say "no" to my advances, there'd be less chance of crossing her boundaries. Tonight, I will be more straightforward and _court_ rather than seduce.

Quinn is waiting for me. Her eyes light up. I understand why people keep dogs that are always pleased to see you. There's something pet-like and asexual about her, with that pretty, forgettable face and modest frame. Her tight body is a hidden joy. She nearly skips across the empty hall, so light on her feet. If she straightened her back, she really could be a dancer, not an eager child.

Her energy falters. 'Um... Sian, are you all right?'

I wasn't expecting that. 'Is something the matter?'

'Did you sleep _at all_?'

Of course, I'd removed my cosmetics along with my finery. I probably look old enough to be Quinn's mother. 'No… not really.'

'You should go to bed.' She nearly touches my arm. 'I'll be all right.'

With a swing of my hips, I raise a flask of whisky and two cups. 'Want to help me sleep?'

Quinn stammers. Her gaze darts everywhere except me. 'I… are… you inviting me to your room?'

I laugh. The royal chambers would soon give away my identity. 'Fun as that sounds, I'm happy to drink here.'

'Oh… sorry, I didn't mean to imply…'

She's too much for my weak scruples. While she's watching the cracks in the floor, I kiss her on the cheek. 'Stop apologising. Let's sit down and have a chat.' While I find chairs, I imagine Quinn's blushes, her parted lips, her fingers touching the warm spot on her face. No, Quinn, it's not a dream. By the time I look again, she is exactly how I pictured.

'Is everyone in the Freljord so… tactile?'

I pat the chair next to me. 'You live in the cold, you get used to snuggling.'

'I bet.' Her cape tickles my side. Those feathers are soft. I wonder if she goes to bed in them. 'You must think we're so uptight in Demacia.'

'Believe me. There are people here that are _much_ harder work than you.' I open the flask. The scent is marvellous. I had picked something at random but this might have class… or as much class as any beverage can have in a land of frozen nostrils.

'Really?'

'They wear horned helmets and ride boars.'

'Oh… you mean the Winter's Claw?' she says proudly. Quinn's done her homework.

'Yes…' the very thought of Sejuani makes me guilty and sad. I _must_ find out what happened to her. Once the Demacians have left, I may triple the guard on "Udyr Patrol" and take him alive. He's a slippery devil but not one to die for Sejuani's cause, unlike the rest of her band.

When I look down at my cup, it's filled to the brim. This isn't good. I really need a hug and a cry… and sex, if I'm being honest. A shot of deep intimacy would be so much better than getting drunk and going undercover to perform a silly dance with a foreign emissary.

'Sian?'

I blink away my sorrow. Quinn really does care. I see it in those big, yellow eyes and tangled mane, like a stray cat, helping you keep watch at night. She is very sweet, more than a consolation prize. I muster a half-smile. 'Oh, I was thinking of… it doesn't matter.' I go to fill her cup.

'I don't really drink.' She is a good girl, of course. I don't want to press. 'But…' her voice, close to my ear, sounds hesitant and a little bit naughty. 'I wouldn't mind a… taste.'

Ooh, Quinn, are you going to bite me? I feel all exposed and shivery. If that's how you're going to be, I'm glad you've spared me the shame of drinking alone. I need to retain some dignity for both our sakes. 'Don't have too much if you're not used to it.'

Quinn gnaws at her lip and stares into the alluring darkness. Gathering her courage, she downs it in one. She does flinch but swallows without coughing or choking. 'Oh, my!' She gasps. 'It almost hurt, going down but… ooh, now it's all warm and…' she rubs her tummy and purrs, 'I feel a bit giddy. It's nice.'

I stroke her back and watch her thaw. This may have been the right decision. 'I'm glad you like it.'

'We normally drink ale in Demacia, if we drink at all. I've never felt something just… work. It's much better.'

'Don't get carried away.' I vaguely recall my first time. I _vividly_ recall waking up in a clearing with a terrible headache and insect bites all over my alcohol-soaked breasts. Apparently, I'd mounted a table, suffered an existential crisis partway through stripping and fled into the wilderness without my top and boots. Quinn deserves better than that. 'You'll make yourself ill.'

She looks at me through pale eyelashes. 'I'll trust you with my cup.'

'You _may_ regret saying that…' I reward her enthusiasm with another shot. 'There are some very good wines from Demacia.'

'I can't imagine drinking wine. That's a… Xin or a Lux thing. I'm a scout, not a lady.'

'I'm no lady. It never stopped me.' The thought of wine makes me wet my lips. 'We can't make it in the Freljord and it's expensive to buy.'

'You have other drinks.'

'We do… Gragas lured many with his talents, though his work's a bit rich for me. Everyone drinks mead and tells me about this and that variety, but I can't tell whether they're lying or it's _all_ too sweet. Whisky's not bad. I can actually taste something apart from sugar. It's "clean" if that makes any sense?'

'I don't know.' Quinn won't taste anything, swallowing like that. 'Perhaps I need to drink more?'

'I thought you Demacians took longer to corrupt.'

'We do. You're just very good at it.'

We both laugh. When was the last time I relaxed? I can't remember anything but stress, war and heartache. Flippant conversation, gentle company, these are normal things that anyone should treasure.

Did I ever have them?

I wonder about Quinn, talking to her bird. Maybe she feels the same. 'Where is your friend?'

'Valor? Oh, he's off hunting.'

Does Quinn have a way of sharing his view? Their connection is fascinating but I'm far more worried about Lux using her magic to accomplish the same effect. He may be gathering information while he's out there. Even so, I can't force the issue without implying there's something to hide. 'Again? We already have farmers over-working their lands and hunters proving their mettle.'

'Should I call him back?' If she's willing to do that, she may be innocent, unless it's an elaborate ruse to throw me off the scent. The classic response would be to deny all control. I suspect that Quinn doesn't play the game. There's still the possibility that Lux has done something without Quinn's knowledge. I should let this be.

'No, I was joking. I'm sure the Freljord will outlive us all.'

'Is it very beautiful?' There's longing in her voice. The tales of our landscape fire imaginations throughout Runeterra. The Freljord is a teenage dream, a symbol of adventure, that Quinn _needs_ to be real.

'Oh you would not believe…' I feel the stirrings of patriotic fervour. 'It is familiar and fantastical, raw and romantic, sublime and savage.' I giggle at my words. 'Listen to me, trying to be a poet! It's hard to convey the magic of the place with one image… a solitary arctic fox on a windswept plain of white… ancient carvings in endless rock behind young evergreens. The Freljord is _everything_ at the same time. That which should not co-exist… the impossible… to… together.' My voice cracks. War and love, Sejuani and I, maybe our relationship is just a reflection of the Freljord's ancient paradox. I sniff back tears.

Quinn takes my hand. 'Are you all right, Sian?'

'I'm… growing sentimental… places, people…' The human contact opens the floodgates. I throw my arms around Quinn and weep into her shoulder. Her stiff arms move up and around, like a golem trying to learn emotion. Her purple dye smells like our chandlery, oil, tallow, adhesive. It's not enough. I need the scent of a person. I fall into her bosom. Her clothes haven't been washed. Scouts aren't known for their hygiene. There is no perfume or heady hormonal blend of sexual heat, only stale sweat, like a sick child, bedridden for days in the same outfit. My forehead presses into her breastbone. It is like holding a girl and not a woman.

I stop feeling sorry for myself and pity Quinn. She has missed a crucial stage on the way to adulthood. I don't know which one, childhood freedom? Rebellion? The profound realisation of your agency _and_ helplessness, a contradiction that follows you to the grave? I pull back. She looks exactly how I imagined, high shoulders, flushed skin, lowered eyes, ashamed of the emotion that I've forced upon her. I feel disgusting. 'Sorry. It came so quickly. I couldn't hold back.'

'It's okay.'

'It's not okay. I shouldn't impose on a stranger.' Not to mention, a stranger who seems poorly equipped to bear my demons.

'No...' Quinn paws at my hair, 'no, I'm grateful. People never open up to me. They think I'm too… weird and immature to understand anything.' She is rubbing her arm and pouting. I don't know whether to feel chastised or vindicated for my prior judgement.

'I know what you mean. I have a lot of responsibility but everyone thinks I'm in dreamland.'

'It's not fair, right? I'm old enough to kill but…' Quinn hears the loud echo of her words and goes quiet. 'I'm old enough to kill but they're right. I don't have experience with… personal things.' That must be her way of saying she's a virgin. I'm not surprised but there was no guarantee. As a peasant, your "honour" is discounted and sex is a free option. You can't always afford to eat or drink but getting on your knees costs nothing. 'But you're different. You're far too worldly and… persuasive.'

'You mean "old and creepy"?' I _so _need to catch up on my beauty sleep.

'No, just that you're a _woman_ and not a…' her mouth twitches sadly, 'girl. I wish I were more like you.'

'You're fine as you are, Quinn.' She can grow up at her own pace, and into something better than me.

'I'm not. I've always felt incomplete but whenever I find a missing piece, another one comes adrift.' She stares into her cup. I fill it. She downs another shot and finds the will to continue. 'I had a twin brother. I loved him but… I always felt a little bit of my heart was outside my body, even when he was near.' Her cloak bunches up around her ears. 'He died and I stalked the land where he fell, searching for what I'd lost... and I found Valor.'

'I did wonder how you met.'

'I don't know why Valor was there. Even if he could tell me, I don't think he'd say.' Quinn looks to the heavens. 'There's a lot of speculation. The bards write songs about him bearing the soul of my twin. I believed that for a while but… I thought… what if Valor _himself_ loves me, regardless? If I look for mystic patterns, I deny what is real.'

'That's very wise, Quinn.' Perhaps my love for Sejuani is no cosmic tragedy, written by the stars. Maybe we're just two women who fell together in difficult circumstances. Destiny can be a cruel mistress. I'd like to think that she doesn't run my whole life.

'Really? I don't think anyone's called me "wise".' There's hope in her voice. 'You don't think it's silly that an eagle could love someone as we do?'

I've always walked with spirits. They've been greater comfort than most people. My hawk follows me to this day. However, it's not them I contemplate. I recall Sejuani in Volibear's arms. His devotion made me feel so empty and forsaken. Tryndamere would die for me because of whom he is, a frenzied berserker, bred to fall in combat. Volibear would die for Sejuani because of whom _she_ is. 'I don't think it's silly at all.'

Quinn beams like the sun breaking through the clouds, a flower yearning to bloom. 'Thank you. Most people assume I'm some… holy avenger who's not talking about real emotion, or that I'm broken, mad and lonesome.' In her cup, she watches her murky, distorted reflection. 'Well… I am all of those things… but that has nothing to do with Valor.'

'You feel so normal_, so human_, that it makes you want to scream, burst into tears or collapse but other people see a child, a misfit... or a goddess.' That word sounded thrilling on Sejuani's lips but I'd rather be a simple woman that she could touch. With growing need, I wrap my arm around Quinn's waist and pull her to my side. 'You're not alone.'

Quinn stares at me with open grief, like I am painful to behold, a mistake she has made. Just when I think she is about to cry, she bites me on the cheek. I feel the whisky on her kiss, cool and wet. 'Uh… was that all right?' Quinn has spent years in the wild. She has a feral side, untouched by the fake ceremony of prescribed intimacy. Her aggression was unintended, which makes it doubly exciting. I am aroused and ashamed.

Floating back, I tap her on the nose, a way to maintain our connection without drowning in it. 'I did it to you. I can hardly say "no".'

'Okay,' she keeps meeting my gaze and looking away. Her lashes flutter. I'm not sure if it's a nervous twitch or if she's trying to be coy. 'Do you… have a husband?'

I could tell her anything but one lie is enough. There has been more precious honesty in our false dialogue than in all my noble endeavours. Even my predatory deceit is a truer likeness. 'I do.' Quinn pales at my words. 'We help each other but… our marriage is convenient, not loving.'

'Was it arranged?'

'In a sense. I arranged it myself.' I can't face Quinn's disappointment. She probably saw a glimmer of hope in my boldness, a pity I am just another slave to convention.

'Is it okay if I ask why?'

'We had to merge two extended families for the good of my tribe. The Avarosan weren't always… this, living under high ceilings, behind strong walls. Ten years ago, we weren't even called the Avarosan.'

'Wow, you've come a long way.'

'Yes…' I remember the leaner years as if they were yesterday but they seem like two different centuries. My mother claimed immortal blood. I keep silent on the matter as I don't like to boast without evidence but my perception of time is fittingly askew. 'It was the right decision.'

Who am I fooling? There was no decision. To achieve my goals, I had to be Queen, embodying wisdom, community and prosperity. That was my sworn duty. There was no woman in my life and never would be until…

Sejuani, if you came so much as halfway, I would cast aside my halo, betray the dream of a united Freljord and allow your private domain. I am no martyr. Fellow goddess, there are few blessings I need from you, a friendly conversation between equals, your shoulder next to mine as we see the world through different lenses, the heavenly joy of not being alone.

But you are stubborn and pure, and I love you for it. You live without compromise, while I assume a false name and tease a vulnerable youth who would likely surrender all for a kind word.

I don't blame Quinn. It's not like I'm any better.

She fidgets. I'm amazed all those little movements don't wear her out. Finally, she works up the courage to speak. 'Was there someone else?'

'Yes… but we can't be together.' My next words are a dangerous comfort. Lost within the complex wilderness of life, acceptance can be a safe prison. 'Love isn't always enough.' Quinn looks forlorn. What girl her age wants to hear that true love isn't the strongest force in the world? Granted, she is Demacian. They're more into justice. I hope, for her sake, that she rejects my words as weak and cynical. 'Are you married?'

'What… _me_?' Her laugh is raucous. 'I'm too young, like _way_ too young.'

That was something I didn't want to hear. I'd assumed that Quinn was a late bloomer, not an actual child. I feel sick. 'How old are you?'

'I'm nineteen.'

Okay, that's not far off my original guess. I'm still a bad person but not irredeemable. 'Plenty are married with children by your age. Before we had the resources to free people from their roles, women had to settle down unless they proved their other skills were crucial.'

'I know. In the Demacian countryside, we grow up fast. I think being a twin can shut you out of chances and obligations. People look at you and, for an instant, they see only half a person. Sometimes that moment is all it takes for life to pass you by.'

Quinn's tale draws my sympathy. I'm going to weep again if I'm not careful. She deserves a cool mentor, not "Ashe, the Melting Snow Queen". 'That's awful. I'm sorry, Quinn.'

'Don't be. The good outweighed the bad. I'm just trying to explain why I feel too young for marriage.'

'I understand.'

'Even if I were older, scouts aren't exactly wife material.'

The only domestic talent I have is giving orders but if I were to choose one... 'my husband would agree.'

'Oh! I wasn't talking about…' Quinn spills whisky in her lap. 'For you, I'd make an exception.'

I grin at her. 'Would you now? I'd marry _you_ in a flash. A member of the royal entourage… what man could possibly refuse?'

Quinn stammers. 'Oh, I don't hold much sway. My… scant authority isn't worth a pretty girl who's always at home.'

'You _are_ pretty.'

She blushes so easily. Her fair skin betrays her delight while she hides her smile. I revel in my power and envy her weakness. Oh, Quinn, I'll call you "pretty" a thousand times if it makes you that happy, and I can do so much more. She recovers enough to return the compliment. 'I don't think anyone would say that with _you_ here.'

'Charmer.' I kiss her forehead and casually stroke her hair. The dye feels unpleasant but it works my imagination, all those hidden depths awaiting my discovery… but the surface grows on me as the locks bunch and separate in unique ways. If I closed my eyes and reached out, I'd never mistake her for anyone else. 'No boyfriend?'

'Oh, no… no…' she draws out that last denial. 'Boys don't even notice me.'

'They're just shy.' At her age, definitely.

She concedes without enthusiasm. 'If you say so.'

I trace the outline of her ear from top to lobe. The heat scrambles my thoughts and burns through my opposition. Against all judgement, I dive into a perilous rapid. One subject had lurked, unspoken, until now. I am pushing a snowball down a hill. 'What about girls?' I whisper.

Quinn sits bolt upright, revealing a focus I hadn't seen beyond her training. 'Erm… I…' sucking her teeth, she watches my lips, then my chest, then my lips again. 'I don't know. Is that normal here?' She's trembling as though I'd voiced my intention to pounce.

'Not really. Survival depended on stability and procreation. If you were strong, you had to breed and provide a steady environment so your children could fight the chaos outside.' It's all very logical. I wish I could hate my words more than I do. 'Preferring your own gender is… not persecuted but childish and irresponsible. If you persist then you must do it in secret.'

'What do you think?' She already knows. I conveyed enough regret with the tone of my voice, the turn of my head, and every twitch of my hands. Maybe our thoughts are one, and she craves to hear them spoken.

'I want to do the right thing but… it's hard. A life without someone to kiss you goodnight, soothe your pain, love your body as you love theirs.' My control slips. I never meant to disclose this much so quickly. 'I can face the world without a hand in mine, there's always a distraction, but when it's just the darkness, an empty bed, and this overwhelming need to be _touched_…' I hide my tears with another draught of whisky.

'The person you loved was a woman?'

'Yes.' And there it is. I couldn't even be this candid with Sejuani. She's too preoccupied with killing me or herself to engage in conversation. Thank you, Quinn. I'm glad we crossed paths, even if I walked some dark entries to get here. 'Are you okay with that?' I've staked a lot on her approval. If she rejects me now, I may fall apart.

'I am.' She throws her arms around me with bracing strength, granting acceptance we both need. Our ribs compress with exquisite pain. She clutches me like I'm a fading dream. 'Thank you so much for telling me. No one talks about… _our_ love in Demacia. It's like… it's like being the sole drop of rain in a sea of loneliness.' Our cheeks brush together as Quinn draws back. Her amber eyes and virgin lips are silently pleading. This girl has never been kissed, has waited for this moment. I know her thoughts. Contact is not enough. It can be bought, negotiated. What she needs is the magnetism, the unconscious.

It is there. I am attracted to her sweetness, her potential, her scrawny, muscular body. I make the first move, an inch forward then aside, letting her nose pass mine. Quinn shuts her eyes, of course, because that's what "real" lovers do. She can't bear to know her movements and direct them. She wants them to be natural. Dear Quinn, you just bump your head that way.

Luckily for you, my eyes are open.

Her lips are a wall. They mash against mine. She pushes hard, trying to find that new spiritual connection. Relax, Quinn, you don't fuse with your partner. It's just skin on skin. Learn to enjoy it for all it is. I slow her down and suck gently on her lower lip. She relaxes and copies me. I hold her delicate jaw, feeling the beautiful, sensual undulation of flesh and bone.

I am melting. I am _finally_ melting. I needed it so badly… I…

…

I wake up in her arms. Did I fall asleep? How disgraceful of me. I should talk to Quinn. She'll want assurance that she did everything right, fulfilled my expectations… but I'm so tired. Her kiss was like a drug. I'm warm, numb and dead to the world. I should talk… I really… really should…

My hair is wet. She is crying. I don't have the energy to rise. All I can do is turn enough to kiss her neck and murmur. 'Are you okay?'

'Sorry… I… don't deserve you. You're exhausted and away from the one you love and I'm taking advantage.'

'You're helping.' This makes her cry louder. She sniffs hard between little moans. 'Quinn?'

'I'm evil and useless!' "Evil"? That's a strong word. I know the Demacians are a zealous people but hearing that from Quinn scares me. Did she ever combat her desire with self-harm? I dread to think that she wasn't ready for this. If I cast her from a prickly, but safe, nest into a lethal tailspin of shame, I will never pardon myself. 'I thought that it was okay to steal your warmth because you were tough but…'

'Quinn!' I want to shake her but I can hardly move. 'You need to stop hating yourself, I…' something isn't right. There's a darkness in this room, in my thoughts, a darkness that stretches into... 'How long was I out for?'

'Two minutes. My heartbeat was so loud, I… use it to keep time in the field.'

'Oh…' I'm having blackouts. If I don't get some rest now, I will collapse in front of Jarvan… or fall over a balustrade to my death. 'I thought it was only a second.'

'I was paralysed! You might have been dying but I couldn't let go.'

'You'd have known if something was wrong.'

'But…'

'I trust your instincts. When I walk through the night, I hear death in the wind. You're a hunter like me. If I were in peril, your inner fire would blaze.' Thoughts come and go but my words thrum with the clarity and purpose of a mantra. The sublime focus, that guides my bow, also unifies the cracked prism of self to a single ray of light. Even as I wallow in the depths of human frailty, I channel some higher power, from within or without. My unwavering centre is a blessing and a blight. 'Please don't fear death when you can live.'

Quinn's breath is charged with emotion. 'I… want to _live_.' Hands tighten, eager little claws, hungry despite her guilt. She nuzzles my cheek. 'You should… come to bed. We don't have to do anything. Just let me watch over you.'

It's a bewitching offer. I wish I could say yes but the threat of discovery is too high. A search party would turn the whole castle upside-down if I slept in. 'I'm sorry. My absence would be noted.' I kiss her on the mouth. 'I'm not saying that to be kind.'

'All right.' Quinn is gracious in her disappointment, a shame I could not reward her courage.

'There's no need to rush. You're not obliged to sleep with the first person who kisses you.' I absent-mindedly sweep Quinn's hair from her eyes. 'Have a think and I'll do the same.'

She draws my hand to her lips. 'I'll be here. Whatever happens… thank you for the memory.'

* * *

As I lie awake in my room, I picture a world where Quinn and I don't have to pretend. Once my rule is firmly established, I could use my power to spread tolerance… but is change by royal decree possible without making a window to every soul? Would the mice become rats while the cats are at play?

The Winter's Claw tolerate _no one_ but there are rumours abound that Sejuani openly favours women. It is troubling to think that we might encounter less prejudice amongst barbarians. I guess her culture is blind to all metrics but force. The line between good and evil is blurry, subject to manoeuvre by powerful interests, while the line between the strong and the weak is death… purity without equal.

I walk the longer road but I knew that from the beginning.

Sweeping my arms through the cold expanse, I bridle at how easy it must be for Sejuani to warm her bed. She earns what she takes. All she has to do is seize a girl by the hair and drag her to paradise. Maybe Sejuani is arching her back in pleasure while I toss and turn. Maybe she has a harem.

No, I can't imagine it.

* * *

_I am in a tent. Rain pounds on the canvas overhead. Laid across a bier is a dark form, swathed in bloody fur. Distant words bubble from unseen depths. Malformed echoes herald each call. 'Ashe.' Even with all the noise, I recognise Sejuani's voice, deep, slow and stagey. Giving speeches to restless warriors above howling winds must have tempered her delivery. She toys with each sound like a blade. Her classical grace would shame any actress. 'Why are you doing this to me?'_

_I am torn between rage and need. Frantically, I reach out and find a hollow in the shape of her body. I stumble away, frustrated and horrified in equal measure. 'Doing what? Finding comfort because the woman I love drives me away, again and again?'_

_'You are all I want… I do not seek happiness and comfort, only you.'_

_'Then come to me! How many times must I offer my hand before you accept?'_

_'I…' the shadows flicker. 'Too long… I have been in darkness too long… and now, I am the darkness. I can never leave.'_

_'What can I do?' My throat burns with the force of my scream. 'You accuse me of betrayal then say we can never be together? Tell me! What can I do?'_

_New frequencies join the chorus, low and rumbling. The storm swells with distant thunder. 'She doesn't know.'_

_A hostile presence fills the tent, a shape formed by the rhythms of the rain, invisible sonic ripples fleeing the sides of a monstrous figure. 'Volibear?'_

_'Perhaps. I am at my limit. You could be hearing me… or hearing yourself.'_

_My back touches the wall. If Volibear has come to punish me then I should know my crime. 'What happened to Sejuani? Is she okay?'_

_'No…' the presence crackles with directionless energy. I don't think it knows my exact location. 'My poor girl, my great hope, was lost, following your star. I can not find her.'_

_'Following _me_? She burns every bridge I try to cross!' Fire scorches the ground in a perverse illustration._

_'Willing or not, _you_ have led her.' Invisible claws gouge the canvas by my head. 'She gave _everything_ to preserve your mockery of life.'_

_'What could I possibly gain from her destruction?' Light pours out of me, driving him back. 'I am not a goddess or a star. If you are Volibear, tell her to stop making sacrifices and reach out!'_

_'She can't.'_

_'Then I have nothing!'_

_Sejuani speaks again. Her voice is breaking. 'I believe in…'_

_'No!' I charge through the storm and plunge into her darkness. 'I don't want you to believe in me. I want _you_!' The bitter cold shatters my arm. I hold the bloody stump and wake up, screaming._

* * *

I can not sleep and it is _killing_ me.

* * *

Today, we are escorting the Demacians through the wilds.

I wish I could have assigned the expedition to someone else. Headaches come and go, along with my intelligence and personality. The slowest movement smears across my vision like paint as my tired brain struggles to keep pace. Unfortunately, I bear a half-earned reputation as a master scout. The Demacians will expect the privilege of my expertise.

We cope. Tryndamere is well-versed in the field and covers the basics, which allows my wandering mind to dwell on those details with personal resonance. Jarvan and, curiously, Shyvana seem pleased with my gnomic rambling. It's the first time she has expressed something more than stoic belligerence. However, the moment is spoilt by Tryndamere whispering, 'I think you're in there.'

Garen has been quiet and restless. He is a man of heroic charges and armoured glory so I guess the landscape has no appeal outside a military campaign. One view makes him pause. There is an evergreen valley between ridges, nourished by the sun as it rises through twin peaks. In reverence, he puts away his sword. 'It's a shame that Quinn isn't here. She'd have loved this.' Clearly, he is interested in nature when it relates to people. I can understand his popularity with the common folk of Demacia.

I feel warm. Just hearing Quinn's name dispels my loneliness. Realising that another gay woman is highly esteemed makes the world a friendlier place. Even if her sexuality is hidden from her peers, the chimera of acceptance is better than nothing at all. 'It is good of you to think of her.'

Garen looks impressed. 'Were you introduced? I swear Valor talks more than she does.' I recall, too late, that I shouldn't know about Quinn.

My skin crawls when Jarvan smiles. I feel trapped. Fortunately, he does not pounce. 'Quinn talks plenty. You're just comparing her to Luxanna.'

The barb does not go unheard. Lux stamps her foot and sticks her tongue out. 'Bully.'

Garen interrupts. 'Goblin.'

While the siblings argue, Shyvana hangs her head in embarrassment. Xin chuckles. 'Ah, youthful energy. Such exuberance is a marvel on the battlefield.'

Are we making progress here? The Demacians are behaving like… normal people. Maybe the spirit of the Freljord has that effect.

No, it hasn't worked on Sejuani. For all her grand talk of wide open spaces and freedom, she trembles within a frozen cage. It would take more than a bracing view to overcome her dogged refusal of my hand, when she clearly wants me.

There goes my vanity… but she wears _my_ bracelet! It is justified, surely?

Jarvan pulls me back to earth. 'You seem tired, Ashe.' He is watching me strangely. 'I pray this tour is not a strain on your health.'

'Not at all. It's my pleasure to share the Freljord with such honoured guests. If I seem dreary it's because I pale before its wondrous beauty.'

'I couldn't possibly agree but it speaks poorly of us both if we dwell on your appearance.' Jarvan is right, of course, but it wouldn't kill him to be human. With my bloodshot eyes and dry, heavy skin, I could use a bit of gallantry. 'Pardon the bird metaphor but Quinn is a night owl. If you had met, you would know that she is my eyes and ears after sundown. Your industry is impressive but you needn't prove to me that you run your domain at all hours.'

I can't give anything away. Focus… my body is water. Let the rivers become glass, each pupil, a mere window to the great beyond. They see nothing. Feel nothing. 'I am aware that she uses my training room at night… which she is welcome to, by the way… and is pleasant company but we have not spoken.'

Jarvan does not raise the subject again.


	8. Prey - Chapter 4

**Prey – Chapter 4**

The Demacians close ranks to discuss their verdict. Shyvana guards their wing. It does not surprise me that the outcome is of no interest to her. No doubt, her feelings on the subject were conveyed in a single weary grunt.

She has cast aside her bipedal form. No one dares approach the reclining dragon. She looks even hungrier than Sejuani's boar.

Quinn is nowhere to be seen. I am alone, sat on the floor in a shadowy corner of the range. There is something oddly therapeutic about seeing familiar rooms from a new perspective. Gazing up, I see myself, an impressive, reliable adult, effortlessly guiding my subjects and allies.

Do our children feel safe when they look at me?

I wanted to offer the castle-bound Quinn a glimpse of the Freljord, an impossible, indifferent majesty, free of mortal prejudice, a vision to hold close when the world is vast and unkind. Have I lost my chance? If the alliance with Demacia goes ahead then she could be stationed here. However, the rarity of our connection, our mutual need, only inspires dread.

I rest my cheek on the stone. It is heavenly. My room is haunted by dreams but here… is nothing… my body, lifeless… mind, shutting down… bliss.

* * *

'Sian, can you hear me?' Someone pats down my sides, checking for injuries. I twitch once, my survival instinct briefly overriding my knowledge that it must be Quinn. 'Are you hurt? What happened?'

I'm starting to remember why I don't sleep on the floor. Any emotional reward is brutally offset by the pain of waking. My bones feel as if they'd been savaged with a tenderising mallet. 'Relax, I…' a loud yawn swallows my words, 'fell asleep. It's fine.' I'm relieved that I can still do it.

She is cradling me. I think she's washed her clothes but it's hard to tell beneath all that perfume. It seems Quinn either tries too hard or not at all. It's very cute. I just want to pull her down and educate her. My arm snakes around her neck. She sighs. 'You can't… I know this isn't my land. You know the risks but… anything could happen.' She's babbling. 'I know what it's like, wanting to destroy yourself, and everything, because you can't lie anymore, but there are people who care about you!'

Was that a confession? I lean closer. 'Oh, Quinn…'

'It's not funny!' She turns away from me. 'Don't do that again!'

I deserved that for toying with her. In the Freljord, punishing love comes naturally. Maybe that's why Sejuani keeps rejecting me, and why I'm throwing myself at Quinn.

It shouldn't be this way… but I haven't unified this country yet… and I am still cruel.

Before I can apologise, Quinn settles down and reclaims the penitent role. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. I wanted to come sooner but His Majesty called me to his chambers. He wanted to know if I had seen anything.'

'Oh…' Would she divulge her liaison with another woman? I've no idea how Jarvan would answer. By all accounts, he's a man of the world. Even if he objected for personal reasons, I'm sure he has more important things on his mind. At best, the information would expose little about the Freljord and much about Quinn. He should not condemn our treaty for a dalliance between staff.

No… Jarvan is allowed his criteria, however strict or frivolous. I should not hold him responsible for excusing my conduct.

Though am I really to blame for loving the wrong person? I never wanted sleepless nights, guilt and madness. Why can't I lie with my husband, like any other woman, and greet the day with renewed vigour? Instead, I trespass on foreign lands after sundown, wolfing their seed, when I should be leading my tribe to supremacy.

Everyone has their unseen cross to bear. I can't ask for exemption. A better person would have been strong… but the damage is done. I have sold my honour, so I will take my due.

Quinn's mouth is agape, as though she is trying to force a great sickness from her core. 'Sian…'

I rest my finger on her lips. 'No.' Her bright eyes are timorous yet hopeful. She wants me, despite her virtue. That overwhelming scent, a harlot's call for trade or an adolescent cry for attention, leads a trail into her sacred woods. If she longs to be chased, I will grant her wish and bare my fangs. 'Don't say a word. Nothing good will come of it. All I want to know is you…' I gently push my finger into her mouth. She sucks on the tip. 'And me.' I guide us both to our feet. 'Come. I want to show you something.'

* * *

The Freljord is never truly dark. Moonlight and snow tell half the story but there is so much more, the glistening hide of a predator, the shining eyes of its prey, frozen lakes refracting starlight through a million cracks.

And there is one special kind of light…

'Every campfire tells a story.' I embrace Quinn as we observe the landscape from our natural shelter. My hand sketches the contours of her temple, cheekbone and jaw. 'I see hope, fear, curiosity, contemplation. I look at the strength and shape of each blaze. Wide and rich, I see a hunting party swapping jokes and telling tales… pale and blue, I see fay spirits dancing under the stars… when I see glowing embers, I think of two people against the world, sharing warmth, trust… and something more.'

Quinn rests in the crook of my shoulder. The tip of her nose draws little circles on my neck as her warm breath tickles my collarbone. 'I can't believe… it's so romantic. I thought…' she hiccups, tears come to her eyes, 'people like me never shared moments like this.'

'Beauty is everywhere, my young butterfly.'

She kisses me on the lips. The gesture is simple and sweet, a marked improvement on before. Should I feel proud? Quinn's first proper girlfriend will appreciate my tutelage, if there is one. 'Thank you so much. I… oh, it's embarrassing… I brought a present of my own but it's nothing compared to this view.' She fishes within her knapsack and produces two bottles. 'I didn't know if you liked red or white so I brought one of each.'

'Oh, Quinn, you shouldn't have!' A courtship gift from a woman, such a minor thing that I've always wanted. I'm thrilled that Quinn is taking the initiative. I could swoon in her arms.

'There were so many different kinds! I had no idea where to start. I could have asked someone but Xin would recite poetry and Lux would make fun of me.'

'It's wonderful. This has made my night!' I give Quinn a peck on the cheek, a promise of more to come, and examine the labels. The white is a Pinot gris, the kind of trusty beverage I would drink every day if I could. However, the red is far more intriguing. It's a Cabernet from House Laurent, expensive and unpopular but something I'm inclined to give a sporting chance. 'Hmm… I prefer white but, for some reason, I fancy the red. The colour matches your hair.'

Quinn giggles and plays with a strand. 'The dye is made from grapes, and a few secret ingredients, but I'm sure the wine tastes better.'

'I wouldn't be so hasty.' My gaze lingers on her thighs. 'You're looking _very_ delicious right now.'

'Ooh, I can't believe that I'd erm…' Quinn is so bashful that she covers her groin as if she'd emerged naked from her bath to an audience. When she twigs that she's needlessly grabbed her crotch in front of me, she turns bright red and mumbles into her cloak. 'Taste that good.'

'You'd be surprised.' I imagine serving Quinn the taste of her own arousal as I uncork the bottle. Eagerly, I savour the wine's bouquet. It's impossible to judge quality without pouring but I haven't had wine for _so_ long. 'Do we have any cups?'

'Yes!' Quinn nearly shouts in relief at the change of subject. 'I borrowed some glasses.'

'You _are_ resourceful. Proper drinking vessels in the Freljord?' I lounge on my fur. 'You are spoiling me!'

Quinn sounds almost debonair while I fill her glass. 'Only the best for my charming host.' Reflections from our campfire dance in the ruby cascade. 'It's not all bad up here. You have some very fancy tankards.'

'We do but…' I was going to jest about preferring curves but I'd rather not make poor Quinn feel inadequate. Her narrow body suits her well. 'They're not for me.' The hue of the wine takes me back to our prior conversation. 'Why _do_ you colour your hair?'

'So Valor knows I'm an ally.'

'He must recognise you by now.'

'It helps him focus. He gets distracted _very_ easily.' Quinn tries to copy my wine tasting. While it is fun, watching her act all grown-up, she'd enjoy it more by minding her own palate, rather than _my_ actions. 'But you're right. It's more of a habit now.' I don't know if she's aware but she keeps glancing at my breasts. I am wearing a very low top. Her attention is worth the cold.

'What's your natural hair colour?'

Her mouth twitches. 'It's erm… red.'

I gasp and nearly choke on my wine. 'Ooh, I love red hair! And with those golden eyes, you must look _stunning_!'

'Really, it's not that…'

'How could you hide something that precious?' I tug at my neckline as I imagine red hair against the backdrop of the Freljord. That's it. I'm redrafting the terms of our alliance. All I want now is "Quinn and a hot bath".

'I don't mean auburn or strawberry-blonde. I mean _red_, like full-on country-bumpkin peasant-girl _red_.'

Avarosa, I think I squealed. 'How darling!' I pounce on Quinn. With eager hands, I comb through her mane, trying to see her roots. 'Do you have freckles? If you wear make-up, I'm going to be _so_ cross.' Raising her arms in feeble defence, Quinn spills wine down my chest. We roll across the fur, laughing while she tries to push me away.

Quinn doesn't know how to play-fight. Her boot strikes my abdomen, launching me through the air. She pins me down. My belly churns with claret and throbs with pain. I'm slightly winded from the impact. This could be an attempt on my life and there's no one to help. I'm at Quinn's mercy. The rational part of my brain is deploring my selfish madness but all higher thoughts are consumed in a firestorm of lust. Her palms crush the veins in my wrists. My fingertips go numb. The flames lick higher. For all her inexperience, my rangy little girl is _stronger_ than me.

And I _love_ it.

'No fair,' I struggle to breathe as her tough, angular body pressures mine. 'I was only playing.'

'Oh?' Quinn smiles like a rambunctious child who's unaware of my turmoil. 'Does that mean I've won?'

'Maybe...' I wet my lips. Come hither, Quinn. I know you want this. Take your prize.

The moment stretches to breaking point. She isn't moving. Kiss me already! Don't make me beg… or make me beg. That could work.

Wait. Is she crying? Her eyelids crease up. Losing all dignity, she sniffs and honks as her body spasms with grief. 'Quinn?' I scramble upright and hold her close while she bawls into my shoulder. Oh, I was silly to expect a confident lover. It's all so new. 'Hush, babe, we don't have to go any…'

'I want to!' she yells in defiance. 'I want to go all the way but… I don't deserve you. I'm a horrible, twisted person and…' her words collapse into sobbing.

What have the Demacians told this girl? She has blood on her hands, no doubt, but so do I. We have to focus on a peaceful tomorrow, not a savage present. 'You're _not_. I think you're lovely.'

'You don't know me. I…'

'You don't know _me_, Quinn. I pledged my soul to Avarosa but I was greedy… and the part I kept has grown darker than the void.' If we consummate a web of lies, my damnation will be complete but I can't deny Quinn to soothe my guilt. 'I don't deserve _you_…' taking her face in both hands, I kiss her forcefully, a wake-up call, 'so we're even. I am more than happy to talk, drink and watch the stars but don't let shame hold you back.'

'Okay.' Her eyes flicker and her head rocks in time with each rapid breath. 'Just answer one question?'

'Yes?'

'Do you want me?'

I skate my hand down her side, feeling every little bump of her ribcage. 'I want you.'

Quinn lets out a ragged sigh of surrender. 'Then take me… please.'

I understand. She doesn't want a choice in the matter. Perhaps good girls don't initiate or she delights in submission. I've been there.

We can't always pick our roles. Even my pursuit of Quinn felt like a chain around my neck, dragging me onwards. Now, I succumb to the yoke of leadership. I am Queen of the Freljord and Quinn is my tribute.

I claim her lips with sensual, rhythmic intensity, a motion that could be only the start of lovemaking. Her kisses are bold and fluent. My little bird learns quickly.

Knowing she must be self-conscious, I offer my body first, placing her hands on either side of my breasts. 'Go on.' She touches me reverently. I do like it rough but, right now, Quinn's gentle discovery is balm for my nerves. Once my nipples grow firm with arousal, Quinn shyly plays with them through the material. Suspecting that she won't take the next step without explicit permission, I pull down my top. She gapes in wonder. It's a thrill to inspire such awe. 'Do you like them?' I ask, teasingly.

'Oh, Sian, they're gorgeous! I…' she covers her mouth, as though ashamed of her outburst.

'You can use more than your hands.' Wetting my lips to illustrate my point, I grab her collar. 'I insist.'

Quinn draws rapid circles with her tongue. I moan happily, voicing my approval as she pushes my breasts upwards and together. Once I feel she has earned her reward and I've earned _mine_, I kick off my boots and peel off my skirt. I raise one leg and waggle the garment as it hangs from my foot. When the skirt falls, Quinn surprises me by sucking on my toes. Did she misinterpret my signals, or does our innocent little girl have a fetish? I hope it's the latter. The idea is far too precious. I've never had anyone worship my feet before. It feels good. Quinn is teaching me some new tricks.

Eventually, I part my legs to her and bare my throat as the first pulse hits below. The first touch is not with Quinn's hand but her eyes.

Like a nervous animal, she pads closer on all-fours. Her face is next to mine as I guide her arm downwards. My expression is apparently more fascinating than any direct response. I can understand why. If I had Sejuani, I would happily go blind if, just one time, I could watch her stern façade crack beneath orgasm.

I reveal every moment of pleasure while she finds her tempo… _adagio_, _andante_. Is this good for you, Quinn? Am I performing well?

'Erm… is this okay?' she asks. Not fair, I said it first, maybe not out loud but still…

'Oh, yes…' my mouth twists through different shapes. 'Oh… I needed this.' Even if I am overacting, I don't have to pretend. Quinn's a natural. I barely have to provide any guidance. Even if her polite, languid strokes rarely feature in my erotic daydreams, they work because I can feel Quinn's personality in them. I don't know if she's aware but she's moving her fingers independently rather than using her entire hand as one. It's a minor wrinkle but those unpredictable touches take me out of the moment enough to drive me onwards.

Quinn maintains our connection with pleading kisses until she asks the thrilling question. 'Should I go down?'

'Hmm… that would be nice.' Quinn smiles and goes to work. I feel hesitant pecks before she works up the courage to involve her tongue. She probably grew up thinking intimate places were dirty. Even with uncontrollable desire, there's a little bump in the road.

It was the same with my first time. I was baited into the act by an older girl, whom I didn't even like, charging a "toll" for showing me her breasts and full spread of pubic hair. I think she was trying to bully me and assert her dominance over the chieftain's daughter. It backfired. I was a _very_ eager participant and unsettled her with my enthusiasm. After that, she was scared of me, like I'd eat her alive if given a chance.

Was it abuse on her part? I don't know. It's hard to feel wronged, especially after my studied manipulation of Quinn.

Am I part of a cycle that can't be broken?

Quinn isn't holding back anymore. She's grabbing, sucking and lapping with crazed hunger like she's trying to sand off a knot. I enjoy giving oral. It's a great way to overcome shyness. You cast aside all dignity and look magnificent, a virtuoso, tonguing your lover's reed. I grind into Quinn's face and tug at her hair. It won't be much longer.

I make a lot of noise when I come, so I'm bemused when she doesn't get the message. Quinn drives at my oversensitive clitoris until I shoo her back with a gentle, 'I'm done.' Pulling her into my arms, I compliment her between kisses. 'Do you see? You are handsome… and sexy… and talented… and can make women feel_ so_ much better than they could possibly imagine.'

'Thank you.'

'No, Quinn,' I tut, 'you're not supposed to thank me until…' I slide my hand between her legs. The poor thing tries to mask her pleasure by shutting her eyes and mouth. She blasts air from her nostrils like a muzzled foxhound. Her carnal side is awakening. 'Don't be embarrassed. You're allowed to feel good… and look even better.' Quinn shakes her head in protest. 'I know. You won't take my word for it.' Coming for another person is a huge leap. You're disclosing your primal self and hazarding rejection for demons you would never choose. Even I couldn't do it the first time. 'If you let me…' I weaken her defence with eager strokes. 'I promise not to look at your face. Will that help?'

Quinn mumbles. 'I guess it's too cold to put out the fire.' She already knows the answer.

'I wouldn't recommend it,' and I'd never liked having sex in the dark. I'm greedy. I want to know my lover with _all_ my senses.

'Okay.'

'We don't have to...'

'No!' Her eyes flash a dangerous yellow. Quinn arches her back high and claws at my breast. 'We've come this far. Please don't give me a way out.'

Responding to Quinn's touch, I slip one hand down the back of her tight leggings, and one up her front. Oh, how I'd craved her muscles… and reality is even better than my fevered imagination. Everything is toned, chiselled and glazed with sweat. You could break swords against those abs and between those buttocks.

I start lifting her top. She locks her arms to stop me going further. 'Quinn?'

'I… I don't like my breasts. They're…' she can't finish her description. 'Can I leave this on? You can… take off the rest if…' her words trail into silence.

I hate this world for bombarding people with unrealistic paintings and sculptures. Growing up in a wilderness, relatively free of those impossible standards, was a blessing, though my ancestors clearly had their ideal women. You wouldn't think that Avarosa had given birth or lived past thirty if her statues were any clue. I highly doubt that Quinn has any "blemish" worth hiding, maybe a scar or two, but we all have them. After years of battle, my legs and arms could be used as a map. I guess we all have one thing we'd change about ourselves. Maybe she feels that her breasts are too small and wide, or her nipples are too large. I have big areolas and she didn't complain.

It's cruel of me to speculate if she's worried. 'You don't need to ask _my_ permission, Quinn.' I smile to reassure her as best I can. 'If it's okay, I would like to touch them.'

'Could you… do it through my clothes?'

'Anything you say.'

I gently cup her breasts. They're modest and delicate, like soft, snowy islets in a frozen lake. For a moment, Quinn looks as though she might run. However, a slow push of her hips and a long, drawn-out breath signal her relaxation. Hopefully, this is the first step towards Quinn associating her body with pleasure, not shame.

Only one of her nipples reacts to my attention. I guess there might be scarring, after all.

I begin to peel down her leggings. When she tenses up again, I pull her close to distract her with kisses and spread my thighs to accommodate her narrow hips. In the security of our embrace, I carefully undress her lower body with my toes. When the barriers are down, I marvel at how naturally our different shapes fit.

I lay her cheek on mine and whisper in her ear. 'You're beautiful, Quinn, so…' My tongue grazes her skin as my hand reaches past her bottom. I take one finger and draw it slowly up her thigh. '_So_ beautiful.'

'Ah!' She cries out when I touch her labia. Quinn tries to swallow her response. Tell-tale whimpers rise in frequency and volume until she unclenches her jaw. 'Oh! Oh, Sian… uh!'

After she's become slick, I resolve to be selfish. 'Are you enjoying that?' I suck on her earlobe. She whines helplessly, too embarrassed to say "yes". 'I'd like to use my mouth on you. Does that sound good?' She nods violently and squeaks an affirmation. I pat her hip. 'If you get on top, you can make all the faces you like, and you'd make me _very_ happy.'

She hesitates. I almost whoop for joy when she gets up and straddles me. Her vulva is pale, bare, and absolutely gorgeous. I wonder if it's Demacian custom to shave. More than likely, she's just veiling her natural colour. There are some nicks that look fresh from this evening.

Ooh, Quinn, you naughty girl, preparing for sex in advance. I picture the scene, her legs open wide before the mirror, hand shaking with excitement as she lowers the razorblade, impure thoughts rampaging through her mind. She probably had to stop and masturbate halfway through… then overdose on perfume to mask the smell.

Quinn stammers and bites her thumb. 'Will you be all right?' She's left-handed. Those must be the fingers that she used… in her mouth…

Avarosa, strike me blind.

I'm actually drooling. 'The less you worry about my comfort, the more I'll enjoy this.' A polite way of saying that I want her to crush my skull with her muscular thighs and asphyxiate me with her womanly scent. I lunge forwards and devour her with gusto. She tastes incredible. To my delight, she loses control just as rapidly and squeezes my temples with such force that my ears pop. I just about get enough air through my nose to stay awake. My hands are all over her body. I would kill to have eight arms so I could grab all of her at once. Instead, I can only paw frantically with one hand while pleasing myself with the other. Not that I didn't enjoy Quinn's prior efforts but this is what I _really_ wanted.

I don't know how long we take. Sensual overload removes all perception of time. A new sound from Quinn, a rapid crescendo of high-pitched yelps, announces her peak. While she pants and quivers, I brutally power towards my own orgasm with slow, powerful strokes, like I'm trying to dig something out of my body.

There it is. I cease all movement and let ecstasy take over. Muscles clench and throb without interference. No control, my toes curl, my fingers twitch. I am a lifeless doll.

Quinn shuffles back. Her blank eyes are startling white, glistening pearls within blood-red skin. She topples over then strains to kiss me. There is an awkward pause when she sees how drenched I am with her arousal.

She kisses me anyway. Thank you, Quinn.

After a while, she tries to speak. 'Hmm… th… ah… uh… hmm.'

We both doze for a while. Stray gusts of air snake through the trees and scatter ashes from the fire. Specks fall across my skin and hair, so any sleep I get remains light. Once I'm refreshed, I make sure that Quinn has most of the fur. Now that our blaze is weakening, she'll feel the cold more. As I tuck the blanket around her shoulders, I watch her breathe. She looks so attractively normal. Our world forces everyone to perform on a deadly stage, turns everyday kindness into vile heroism, and persuades us that our wretched state is ordained, rather than a perversion of our gentle nature.

I want to create a world where we can all just _be_.

Drawn by her loveliness, I hold Quinn's cheek. She's so hot, all that young energy burning bright. Her eyelids flutter. I hope my touch isn't cold. She yawns and stretches. 'Did I fall asleep?'

I smile, knowing that proud, vigilant Quinn is going to be mortified. 'We both did.'

'Ugh…' she looks at the sky to gauge the time. I'd be very impressed if she could read the stars in a foreign part of the world. 'After I told you off?'

'Yep.' I kiss her on the forehead.

Quinn scowls. I picture her as a babe, throwing a tantrum when put to bed. Maybe I'll adopt her. I could paint her room indigo then carve little wooden birds to hang from the ceiling. 'Outside without cover. Something could have eaten us.'

I massage her belly. 'It would appear that _I'm_ the only monster on the hunt for young prey.'

Quinn sounds dejected. 'You're not a monster.'

'It was a joke.'

'Your feelings aren't a joke. I know what it's like to need someone. Even if you're older, we're _both_ vulnerable. I should be looking after you too. I should have stayed awake.'

Her sense of duty is commendable. However, Quinn is too young to see the imbalance. 'It can't be helped.' I slip my arm under her neck and pull her close to me, reasserting our roles. 'This place, it… does things. I chose it for a reason.'

'Is it magical?'

'Perhaps… I don't know. As a child, I couldn't sleep. Every word that my tribe said repeated over and over in my head. Most of it had no meaning or relevance to me. Just knowing that people were there…' I cut off the description. My paranoia bore no wisdom. The real threats came later. 'I had to find a place where I could rest. One day, I fled into the mountains and lost my way. Night fell. I passed out from exhaustion and woke up here… soil like velvet, close trees that provided shelter from the wind, rain and snow. I could feel the landscape watching over me. That was the beginning, I think, of knowing that safety was more than strong walls and military strength. There had to be something more, something deeper.' I can't go on. "Queen Ashe" is renowned for her shamanistic vision. If I describe it as a _personal_ revelation, my true identity would be exposed.

Quinn is awestruck. 'And you brought _me_ here… to your sanctuary?'

'_Our_ sanctuary.'

I soon regret my answer. Quinn fidgets, like she'd accidentally broken a holy artefact or unique heirloom. I'm drowning her with intimacy. My gifts are weighing her down. She needs to feel that she's earned my blessings and I'm not giving her a chance. Instead, I'm saddling her with debt.

It's easy to overlook the pace of our affair. I was numb with stress when it began. Quinn had no such protection. Trembling, she lifts her head. 'I…' something jolts her entire body. Her muscles flex and her brow hardens. I recall telling her my alias. Her feral aspect emerged to lock its jaws around the information. 'I need to ask you something.'

A chill passes through my bones. 'Anything.'

'Promise you won't laugh.'

'I promise.'

Quinn blurts out. 'Am I still a virgin?'

With her sudden focus, I expected something weightier. I assume her question is merely a feint or an opening. The appearance of chastity might be essential if Quinn sought power through marriage but, as Jarvan's retainer, she's guaranteed a knighthood if she doesn't cross him. 'I would say "no". You've been sexually involved with another person… willingly.'

'That makes a difference?'

'I believe it does. When you share your innermost desire, that's a _huge_ step. Without it, you're missing a vital part of the experience. The same applies if you erm...' I don't want to pick the wrong term and fuel Quinn's anxiety, 'use someone as an object. You're avoiding the responsibility, and the joy, of knowing someone's heart.'

'What about my… er...' she mutters, 'hymen?'

I roll my eyes. 'Your hymen is a cultural and political resource. During sex, it has no greater role than any part of your body. A stiff jaw is a bigger obstacle than a taut hymen.'

She doesn't sound convinced. 'Right…'

Was I too dismissive? Her fears are genuine. Phallocentric nonsense is rampant amongst the rich and powerful. Even if Quinn has enough status to ignore most of them, she clearly doesn't appreciate that, and I doubt she's at a stage to fully trust her own judgement. 'With your backflips and cartwheels, you might have stretched yours already.'

'I was told that it would _hurt_.'

'Maybe...' I suffered when Tryndamere and I consummated our marriage. We both did. It's not like he wanted his ego broken upon a dry partner. Strangely, I think I preferred my role to his. I had arguments ready to force his compliance but they were trifling. In all honesty, I felt obliged to earn my glorious coronation through sacrifice.

Despite my prayers, I didn't conceive on the first try. No doubt, my hypothetical child praises the wisdom of nature. I'd make a terrible mother right now.

Quinn pulls her knees to her chest. 'I don't want anyone else to hurt me.' Her knuckles are pale with anger. 'It's not fair.'

I want to comfort her but she radiates an aura like the spines of an echidna. 'Well, it might not hurt and you don't have to worry about it now… or ever. There's no obligation.' It's wrong to admire her form while she's worried but her coiled legs are hypnotic. I trace a line down her calf. She doesn't object. 'When you're ready…'

'No, you've got it wrong,' snaps Quinn. 'I _am_ ready. I want _you_ to hurt me.'

Darkness falls. Our last embers fade. I had foreseen Quinn's emotional fallout. Gold that glitters in the blaze of passion can look foolish and crude in the sharp distance of tomorrow. Even so, her anguish feels dangerous. I work hard to keep my voice light. 'Quinn, I'm flattered but, one day, you'll find someone to be yours forever. Surely they deserve…'

'No!' Quinn is nearly shouting. 'You brought me to your safe place! Now it's tainted! You're going to come here and remember _me_!'

'That's a good thing!'

'It is now but… anything could happen.'

A cold, sick dread rises in my gut. Fearful words trip through my teeth. 'You… want me… to punish you? What… have you done?'

Quinn lies on her back. 'Nothing…' she whispers, 'yet.' Her expression is death, eyes wide, mouth open. 'You should… kill me.'

She knows.

After that, I knew what was coming. Even if I couldn't see or feel it, I _knew_. My whole being aches with despair and regret. 'No…'

'You can't,' she says wearily. There is no disappointment. There was no hope. 'That's why…' she swallows her confession, 'but I know you can hurt me… please.'

I could lecture her again about false notions of purity, that honour bears no relation to the space between her thighs, but she's Demacian. She's conditioned thoroughly to crave absolution through certain rituals. I may disagree with them but I can't reason away feeling.

And I was no different.

When I finally rest my hand upon her, she looks so grateful that I cry. 'Don't suffer in silence. If it feels wrong, then _tell _me.'

'Yes.'

I'm barely inside when she moans. Her walls clench so hard that even the very tip of my finger is rejected. 'Quinn, your body's telling you something. You don't…'

'Lies! It's lying! Make it suffer!' Quinn grabs my arm and twists. 'Keep… going.'

I push farther. She's wet but the tightness is excruciating and my nails are long. I'd grown them out for the visit. I'd only wanted to look pretty. 'This isn't normal, Quinn.'

'Good!' She's clawing chunks out of the ground. 'I'm a freak. Do it!'

'You're not a…'

'I am a _freak_!' She spits the word with such ferocity that she foams at the mouth. 'Keep going! Please, please, please, please keep going!' This is more than twisted salvation. Quinn is directly aroused by the pain I inflict. My power… excites me. Avarosa, cleanse my soul! I don't want to be this way!

Every millimetre hurts. Quinn is thrashing and growling through her teeth like a wounded animal. Suddenly, her head flies back and her jaw hangs loose. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. 'Oh… oh… that's… that's it… that's it.'

I'm relieved. Wary of causing any damage below, I remain still. 'Are you all right?' I stroke her face tenderly.

'Yes… I…' she looks at me through heavy-lidded eyes. A trail of saliva runs from her mouth and down her cheek. 'I really want to feel you move but… I don't think I can take it.'

Neither could I. Entwining our fingers, I withdraw as slowly as possible. Quinn bled a lot, even without any thrusting. I pray that it's the start of her period.

The smell of copper rushes through my brain. I hear the sound of war drums, a tolling bell, snarling hounds. For one hellish moment, I crave the taste of Quinn's blood. My stomach heaves and I nearly vomit in self-disgust.

Once it's over, Quinn showers me with tears and kisses. 'Thank you,' she says, over and over. 'Thank you.' Those are her final words to me.

I gather the remains of our camp and hold Quinn tight as we enter the palace. I no longer care who sees me.


	9. Prey - Chapter 5

**Prey – Chapter 5**

The day of judgement is upon us.

Joyful speculation echoes through the palace, bringing warmth to every cold passage and dark recess. My throne room is awash in cheerful sound. Anivia and Tryndamere chat merrily, bonding over details. Even if they have different personalities, they both enjoy making elaborate plans, racing each other to the smallest variable. Anivia is one of nature's pedants while Tryndamere lived on fresh air, debating how far the wind might carry his scent, or whether his boots would survive a difficult road. I'm glad they're becoming friends. It gives me hope, enough that I can stay upright in silence rather than collapse on the floor.

My royal costume provides no support. When I first welcomed Jarvan's group, the spine of my corset was like a butcher's hook, suspending me for perusal. Now I barely feel my clothes. I may have lost a pound or two but nothing so drastic. My nerves are giving up.

Tryndamere is barking at me, like a puppy begging for attention. 'Ashe…? Oi! Ashe!' He clicks his fat fingers before my nose. 'Are you there?'

Forget jumping, I don't have the energy to _blink_. My head rotates like I'm directing a puppet from within. I swear that my joints creak. Does my throat require lubrication? A glass of wine… thick, ruby drops of Demacian juice? The memory of that sickening urge will haunt me forever. 'I'm... here.'

'You're very quiet.'

'I do apologise. Would you like more evidence of my perversion for your terrible jokes?'

'Always!' Tryndamere grins, a wide, arrogant display of teeth. Apparently, some women find that attractive. He's nowhere near as charming as he thinks. 'Ha hah… erm… in all seriousness, you look ill. Do you need anything?'

'More flattery would be nice.'

He shakes his head. 'I can't win with you.' If he abstained from treating every conversation like a game, that would help. 'You're the most stubborn person I've met, apart from…'

'If you say her name… or call her my "girlfriend"… I will _kill_ you.' That's not hyperbole. My wavering sanity would crumble. After all these years, building a country where no one should live in fear, I must behave like a tyrant or become a fiend.

'Ashe…' Tryndamere leans in, resting an elbow on each knee. He's making his body look smaller, and closing the space, to invite confidence. It never fails to amaze and irritate, seeing the manipulative body language, absorbed from his martial training. He performs, by instinct, every trick I had to learn. 'It's been a long week. You're tired. I'm tired. We're _all_ tired. Right now, I could name a hundred things I screwed up, chances I missed, clever comebacks to that blonde bitch with the gerbil in her snatch.' I should complain but Lux _was_ a nightmare. Tryndamere gets a pass for that one. 'But it's over. All I'd be doing is working my bone.'

'Ugh, you can save that for your chamber.'

He slaps his thigh. 'That's more like it!' Don't get cocky, Tryndamere. I'm not thawed yet, and if I did recover my spark, it wouldn't be _your_ doing. 'Whatever's eating you, just let it go.'

His advice is perfectly rational and utterly worthless. Ignore the ground rushing up since I've already plunged to my death, how deliciously male. Tryndamere is able to cope as everything is an anti-climax after watching his people die. He mistakes avoidable trauma for attainable wisdom. I hope there's another way to inner-peace. 'If only it were that simple.' I turn the conversation away from me. 'You've exceeded my efforts. Diplomacy might be your new calling.'

He grunts and looks appalled at the suggestion, like he'd carry off a ball gown. I suppose he'd look more at ease than Sejuani. My shoulders are at the upper limit of viability, and hers are much broader than mine. Darling Tryndamere has enough general bulk to go for the "mother bear" look. 'Huh, too dangerous, I'm more likely to die of boredom than battle, and it's easy to work the Demacians on our home ground. If we visited Ionia, I'd "upset the balance" and get us all killed.'

Anivia pipes up. 'Really, Tryndamere, how could you scorn rare praise from your cold mistress?' Once again, she is playing marriage counsellor, trying to shape us into loving parents of the modern Freljord. I get the worst of it, having the responsibility of an adult brain. Supposedly, Tryndamere doesn't know any better while I should have the maturity and nous to rise above my petulance. 'You should at least thank her before insisting on your modesty.'

'Ashe don't need to hear that from me.'

'That is no cause to be ignorant! Let _Ashe_ decide her needs. A good husband should obey, not presume.' There's no way I'm getting involved. Anivia's romantic ideal of human behaviour has calcified over generations, and I know better than to challenge it. Her painful shriek lowers to a deep whistle that could be a sigh of exasperation. I'm still not fluent in her unique sounds and body language. 'If you insist on denying your talent, a proven warrior and statesman could easily defend our lands and maintain our treaties while Ashe and I court Ionia.'

Tryndamere gives her a sideways look. 'What are you planning, Vivi?'

'Nothing… yet.' Anivia spreads her plumage. The unwelcome blast of cold restores my feeling. 'So many possibilities, I've enjoyed this week!'

Anivia's timing is perfect. I am able to rise before the Demacians file into the courtroom. Asking Tryndamere for help would have been shameful. Alone, I take the centre, leaving my friends behind. I would prefer to stand with them but I fear my expression will betray me.

The Demacians are unreadable. Even Lux is cold and severe. Her colourful, cracked persona distorts her monstrous intellect. Seen clearly, her divergent aspects form one hydra of military and ambassadorial experience, now marshalled against us.

Quinn is the only gap in their armour, cowering at Jarvan's left hand. With her feathered cape around her ears, the bird of prey resembles a doomed chicken trying, in vain, to hide its neck. Amber eyes draw patterns in the ground. She would sooner keep a low profile but, ominously, Jarvan has dragged her up front. He gives nothing away. Despite my efforts to find common ground, we had never truly bonded. His ratty hair and comic asides were smoke before steel.

When Jarvan speaks, it is mercifully plain. 'With regret, I must decline your terms.' I feel every echo of my country's disappointment, a tolling of hopeful hearts pounded with a sledge hammer, everyone's hard work dashed by means beyond their knowledge.

A force, even more pitiless than gravity, keeps my body upright, my breathing stable. It locks away my shattered mind where it can do no harm, leaving a husk, a model queen performing as it should. No reckless will diverts my limbs, my eyes or my voice. I think I say something. I don't know.

Jarvan answers. 'You have good intentions. Your economy and infrastructure are poor but should improve. I'm advised that your long-term plans are "careful and congruent".' Was that Lux? The phrase recalls her academic twang. After all her aggression, that's a small victory for us. I need to take what I can get. Lux herself betrays nothing. 'I will confess that I expected more posturing. You have… _knowledge_ beyond your years.' Not "wisdom". The implication isn't lost on me. I'm vaguely bothered as he's not yet thirty. My character is fair game but he hasn't earned enough grey to judge my youth. 'Conversely, your enemies are a threat but their aggression is not sustainable. If you weather their onslaught and maintain your course, your growth will put theirs to shame.'

He underestimates both Lissandra's evil and Sejuani's endurance but neither is building a civilisation. I am glad an outsider recognises the merit of my long-term approach. 'Our forces will be pleased to hear that. Your judgement carries weight.'

'Thank you but your patience will serve better than military zeal. I advise that you keep my confidence to yourself.'

A polite way of saying that he doesn't want his name dragged into my war. 'Discretion is my watchword.'

Jarvan glares. I half-expect him to silence my hypocrisy by lancing my throat. 'You should exercise _more_. There is chaos here in the Freljord, hidden… currents that may disrupt the best laid plans of our greatest minds.' He glances towards Lux, whose mask falters. Anger and frustration make her jaw twitch and nostrils flare. Realisation hits me. Lux _wanted_ this alliance and had likely spent every waking hour plotting her glorious campaign on my behalf. The Freljord was to be her proving, and I stole her chance to shine. 'Until such things are under control, I must withhold my support. If that seems harsh or petty, know this. Demacia commits _fully_. If I swear to die by your side, I will not have shifting sands make me a fool or a knave! Am I clear?'

As clear as virgin glass, unlike the queen of the Freljord who breaks her life into pieces and changes colour like a lizard. Quinn is playing with her hands. I'm not sure if I could bear her attention.

This time, instead of using empty diplomacy, I think about my answer. The room is silent for a long time but almost peaceful. My conscious act of engagement is not lost on Jarvan. I sense that he approves. Finally, I speak. 'Yes, I am honoured by your wisdom and integrity. Whatever doubts you have, I pray that you think well of the Avarosan. If I did not convey their faith, honesty and temperance, I am _wholly_ to blame.'

He softens the deep knit of his brow and the grip on his lance. Though my shame is enduring, my acknowledgement was true. 'That is a fine request. I thank you for your hospitality and wish you luck in your endeavours.'

'May the chill wind be always at your back.'

The Demacians begin to leave. It is done. I must retire for a spell and reflect on my sins. The others will have questions but I can't face them now. Just as I dare to breathe, a familiar voice pulls me back to earth. Once again, my body is at the tender mercies of lonely, desperate Ashe.

'Your Majesty?'

Quinn stands alone, her arms raised and curled like those of a beaten dog, a visible tremor blurring her nails. Having spoken out of turn, I don't know if she dreads punishment from her side or mine. 'I… I'm Quinn. I spied on your affairs and… I didn't want to say anything, but…' she keeps turning her head, as though expecting a knife in the back. 'I had to… for Demacia…'

I recover my wits before she provokes Jarvan or my allies. 'You gain nothing by telling me this. Take your victory and leave before you jeopardise yourself.'

Quinn scurries near as if pushed by an invisible hand. 'You were so good to me and I… I…' the rising force of her rapid breathing tears her repentance in two. She pants like a sacrificial lamb. In twisted empathy, I can feel her tortured lungs burn and convulse.

The Demacians exchange loaded glances but will not intervene before Jarvan, who simply watches without expression. He planned for this. I would have done so in his place.

Quinn totters but, with a loud sniff, she pounds her chest and finds the will to prolong her speech. 'I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry… There was no way out! I ran in circles and every path led me to betrayal!' She unfurls her limp, tired arms and lifts her quavering chin, a mockery of Demacian pride. 'I only hope that if we meet in battle, your arrow finds my heart.'

I lose it.

These hands, archer's hands, can't even make a tight fist, yet I punch Quinn so hard that she takes flight. Small, strong Quinn, whose powerful body should absorb all of my pathetic abuse… but I _can_ hurt her… I can hurt her _so_ much.

I bet Sejuani would love this. You'd be proud of me, your mighty goddess raining thunderbolts upon the weak.

Well, fuck you, Sejuani, and fuck me even harder for fucking up this poor little girl.

I hear the rattle of Demacian weapons, feel the glow of Lux's magic and the heat of Shyvana's flame. Is this the end? Will my legacy be war over a stupid affair? The skalds would make hay for years.

Nothing happens. Beyond Quinn, I see Jarvan holding back the tides of war. His palm stills the draconic rage of Shyvana, while his lance bars Garen and Xin Zhao from cleaving my ribs and skewering my gut. Only one person remains free to land the first blow, and reclaim her starring role in history, but Lux withholds her vengeance. The wand of luminosity bears a protective halo, not shining death.

Jarvan is not a prince taking charge. He is a proud slave bullied into submission. There is no satisfaction in what he does. Ancient morals compel him. As the Exemplar of Demacia, he believes in the supremacy of justice. Here, there is but one choice, appear weak, let my insult go unpunished.

I bathe in lies and filth but all my shame could not veil the scar of Quinn's treachery. This dirty scoundrel is owed restitution.

Quinn dabs the cut on her lip. I offer my hand. When she gingerly accepts, I drag her upright and lock my arm around her neck, my chest against hers, the wings of a hummingbird. She does not miss a thought as I mouth whispered words upon her cheek.

'I am sick and tired of my lovers asking me to kill them. When we meet again, it will be painful and awkward. There will be tears and apologies but I will _never_ want you dead… for as long as you live, there will always be a little piece of my heart outside my body.'

Quinn drives her claw into my trapezius. We can't risk an embrace. Our mutual pain is the deepest kiss. 'I… I knew from the start. Your hair and your clothes were different but… your eyes… I could never mistake them. When I looked up at your balcony, it was like seeing colours after a lifetime in darkness. They were as blue as an empty sky… and lonely as a naked sun. All I wanted was to fly into your depths.'

'Oh, Quinn.' Please don't love me. You deserve a normal life and a pretty, sensible girl, not like me and Sejuani. Leave us to our miserable, tangled waltz.

'Everything was real. I didn't mean to entrap you but I couldn't help myself. I wanted you so badly. Everything was _real_!'

'Hush, Quinn.' I release the chokehold and push my thumbs into each temple, forcing her to look at me. 'I backed you into a corner. Duty and desire tore you apart, and the only way out was through me.' No matter where my path leads, those amber eyes will follow. 'You did nothing wrong.'

'But…'

'No buts… if you love me… then love my weakness.' I wrap a lock of Quinn's hair around my finger then pull, breaking the strands. They will have a place in my box of memories, a wicked trophy. When I have atoned, I will suck away the dye, revealing her true colours. 'And love yourself because you're the biggest weakness of them all.'

Quinn stands at full height, bearing her cross without shame. For one glorious moment, she views me as an equal. Her courage is promptly exhausted but it's a new, valiant beginning. 'I'll try,' she says. 'Goodbye, Your Majesty.'

'No, my dear lynx, to you, I'm just "Ashe", now and forever.' I'm struck by an overwhelming need. Say my real name, Quinn… just once.

Her lips draw back from her teeth, an embryonic smile that, one day, will move mountains with broad, rakish charm. 'And you will always be Queen of my heart… Ashe.'

Quinn turns and the Demacians reel. Their shy, innocent girl had fallen before them and emerged from her twisted ovule, a grown, blooded woman.

* * *

I owed my court an explanation but I needed solitude. After punishing loyal subjects with abnegation, I'm obliged to pamper myself before I endanger them. Three days, I cower in my bedroom, ignoring food, guzzling wine and sketching out awful prose. My back hurts from inactivity.

There is a loud knock, several times a day, but I don't answer. The visitor has too much discretion to linger, or not enough patience. I don't care which.

Am I neglecting my role? The Avarosan could prosper without my destructive guidance. They should be allied with Jarvan, rid of Sejuani. Lissandra's corrupted remnants would fall to pure numbers. I see my people rejoice at their victory, finally complete, not forgone by the romantic whims of an overgrown child pretending to be Queen.

Hopefully, they'll march a revolution through the door and kill me. Divine intervention won't spare my life again.

Avarosa… did you love the wrong person? Of course you did. You loved me.

I'm under my pillow, savouring the dark, when a splintering crash heralds unwelcome light. Alarm bells do not sound. It is not death, only Tryndamere. With a loud grunt, he uses a wardrobe to block any more visitors then carries a chair to my side. Frankly, I would have preferred that he sat on the bed. He shows me too much respect… or distrust.

I have the energy to speak, barely. 'You want an explanation.'

'I know you'll give me one, eventually… an explanation, that is, not eh… heh heh.' Tryndamere's granting me cause to loathe him, rather than myself. It's a kind offer but I don't have the will to bite. 'Nah, just making sure you're not dead. Can smell it normally but can't be too careful.'

'I'm not dead.'

'Yeah, I guessed from all the breathing and talking.' He winks. 'Plenty others want to give a second opinion, if you'd like.'

'I can imagine.' All those people making a fuss, tying each other in knots, dancing around the forbidden subject of their queen's bodily functions. The pious may diagnose me with chronic perversion and put me on a diet of parsnips. I'd sooner bear Tryndamere's "wit". 'How is everyone?'

He shrugs. 'All right. Weather's cold. Hunting's bad. Sej and Liss are off licking their wounds. Might as well be a golden age by our standards. I'm bored out of my skull.'

'No Demacians to play with.' I nestle deeper. 'Sorry.'

Tryndamere waves off my apology. 'Ah, it's not a big deal. We haven't lost anything but our time and hospitality. No one's dead.'

'If the war drags on, more lives…'

'The future's not here. Sej could wake up on the right side of the bed and stop fighting. Our little game with Jarvan would be irrelevant.'

He is torturing me with hope. 'Yes, and the Freljord might grow sails and bear us to a land of milk and honey.'

'Fine, bad example, but she _could_ fall sick and plunge her tribe into civil war. My point is that we don't know what problems will come, so we tackle the problems we have.' Ugh, this is why_ I_ govern our realm. One of these days, I'll lash Tryndamere to a desk and lecture him on forward planning. 'Right now, we're more concerned about _you_. Vivian's been flapping like there's a torch up her arse. The blizzards are a nightmare.'

That sounds like Anivia. For a busybody, she never did appreciate her environmental impact. I'm the only person who tells her off. 'Make her do it outside.'

'I can't. If I throw my weight around then…' Tryndamere sighs. 'Look, it was me who insisted on your privacy. There are rumours that I'm keeping you out of the picture so I can do things my way. I've had to keep a low profile.'

I'm disappointed in my court. 'They should know you better.' He's never been interested in politics. I wouldn't have married him, otherwise.

'No one cares enough to know me… and that's fine.' He still carries his old, nomadic life, an island above raging tides. Could he fear the pain of losing another tribe? 'Sooner have my place than yours.'

I hope that's a preference and not a reaction. 'What are they saying about me?'

'Does it matter?' He sounds frustrated, weary of idle speculation. 'You know what happened. It won't do _you_ any good to know how wrong people are.'

These things are important. If I knew hidden presumptions, I could navigate choppy waters. 'Public opinion is…'

'Like mist before the dawn. It'll be gone once you open your mouth.'

If only it were that simple. Yes, my divine right can end arguments but we shouldn't overestimate... and Tryndamere has opinions of his own. He's dropped enough hints. I think it's high time he made them plain. 'What do _you_ think?'

'I'm not playing, Ashe. You can tell me straight or not at all. You don't get to hear me out and say that I'm wrong.'

I throw aside my pillow and track the ceiling in moody silence. 'You're not wrong. Say it.'

'You're into women, and you fucked the little bird girl.'

It's not like I imagined. No weight leaves my chest. I feel cold and pathetic. Life doesn't start again. Your past remains, all your old mistakes, regrets and obligations. 'I couldn't sleep at night, so I went to the archery range, where I met Quinn. I thought she didn't recognise me so I pretended to be someone else and… seduced her… though she might have seduced me. I don't know.'

Tryndamere nods, like I'd given the right answer in a classroom. 'That was very stupid.'

My strength rushes back to power my raised voice. 'I didn't do it to be clever! I did it because…'

'I know. You did it for the same stupid reason as everyone else. Like there's a man alive who's not made a fool by some pretty girl…' he stops and looks at me. The wheels turn. 'Or boy, I guess. The point is, you have a normal weakness, and you deal with it like a grown-up, not sit on a frozen rock and hope it'll go away.'

This is unbearable. How can this lump reduce the pain of loneliness to a common rash? It might be that simple for _him_ but he doesn't have to scramble in the dark, sniffing out a depressingly small portion of humanity. 'So the wise Tryndamere has a cure for love, a need that has plagued every generation from the dawn of time. I already know how to masturbate so keep your hands where I can see them.'

'You're getting a concubine.'

I sit upright with enough speed that my side threatens to cramp. 'What?'

He gestures to my surroundings. 'You are Queen. It's not like you're short of…'

My head feels woozy. I strike my palms into the mattress before I topple. 'You're missing the point.' I slow my breathing until the dizziness fades. 'Yes, I have the means but I can't… _leverage_ some poor woman to…'

'Warm your bed and live in a palace?' Tryndamere laughs. 'Compared to sowing seeds, mending clothes and birthing labourers in a frozen shack, it's a dream come true.'

'Who dreams of becoming a _whore_?' I'd like to think my people have some pride. If Sejuani heard our talk, she'd give me the wrong kind of tongue lashing then redouble her crusade.

'Not a "whore",' Tryndamere frowns like I've been rude, 'a _companion_ to the greatest leader the Freljord has ever known.'

I blow out my cheeks. 'Oh, please. I'm not even the greatest leader in this room.'

'Why? Because you slept with the wrong person?' Tryndamere spreads his thighs even wider, as if he didn't command enough space. 'If you knew even half of my exploits…'

'I'll take your word for it.' I fish around in my drawer for a brush and start putting my hair in order. It's so greasy. After all that wine, I must look and smell worse than a cheap harlot. 'I know you mean well but, even if I…' considering the possibility makes me nauseous, 'hired a concubine, I need more than just…'

'…an affair with a plain runt of a Demacian who crossed your path, yes, but it didn't stop you.'

I glare at him. 'Don't call her plain. If you can't see Quinn's beauty then that's your loss.'

For once in his life, Tryndamere looks ashamed of his words. 'No doubt.' He looks at me with new respect. 'You've got a big heart under all that ice. Few people stand by their mistakes and even fewer stand by their loins. I think that's why I follow you and not Sej. A cow like that would stomp out her "weakness", make others pay for her shortcomings.'

'I don't think she's one to shift blame.'

'Neither do I, but she's got it backwards. Her failing is mercy and bloodshed is her way of making up.' He shakes his head. 'Either way, the bitch isn't the one bearing the consequences, while you have the courage to fall. That's the strength of a barbarian!'

It doesn't fit my self-image but that is high praise from Tryndamere. 'Thank you, I guess, but I lack certain… qualities,' no beard or bellow for a start, 'and there are limits to my courage, shadows I can't face.' The wolf lurks in my breast. I assumed the right thing would always come naturally, but no… I am a carnivore, and I will feed if I do not constrain or destroy my appetite. Acceptance is unthinkable. I should love and cherish women but, instead, I consume little red-haired girls.

'No one should gaze into the void,' says Tryndamere. 'You just have to fight it. Whether you strike to kill or swing your sword, the effect is the same. You know, I can't use my rage without fooling. My clan died only once… but you ask my body and they died a thousand times. Do you follow?'

'So performing love can have the same effect as the real thing? I don't agree.'

'No, I'm saying you _will_ perform it, even if you're alone. Imagine gasping for breath underwater. That's what happened with Quinn. If you need air that badly, and it's not forthcoming, you'll seek it in all the wrong places. Better you have something in the right place.' Tryndamere bows under the weight of his quietly spoken words. 'I know what it's like. This… _anger_ never cools, and if I don't give it a purpose, it finds one. I'm not creative. All I can do is recall my darkest hour… and every massacre in my brain is like spitting on deaths that really happened.'

As a child, I was self-absorbed to a fault. Even now, I'm dwelling on my flaws rather Tryndamere's pain. 'I'm sorry. My teenage angst is…'

'A welcome distraction.' Tryndamere says brightly. 'We'll go for a walk. It'll be fun. You can find someone you like and I'll find someone you can trust. Right now, you're feeling burnt so there's no pressure… but you have to do something or history will repeat itself.'

I picture us roaming the countryside, openly scouting women. 'You're not the slightest bit worried that you'll appear weak or impotent?'

'Nah, everybody knows you're in charge. This'll reinforce your legend. Ashe… a queen of such wild hunger that even_ I_ could not satisfy her!' So it's _good_ that I am a pervert and he is inadequate? I don't understand him. Everything is a joke and he's behaving like an audience rather than a punchline. I think that wandering the blank wastes of the Freljord has overly heightened his enjoyment of absurdity and sense of detachment. 'Your people don't need a saint, they need a _goddess_.'

That word again! 'I'm not a goddess!'

'Hah! Obviously! You drink, sulk and fuck with the best of us mortals... though I bet _Quinn_ was giving praise at your feet. Am I right?'

'Leave her alone, you brute!' I nearly smirk with pride at my "conquest". Ugh, the last thing I need is to be one of the boys, mocking women who are forthright and generous enough to sleep with me, but I'm so relieved by Tryndamere's indifference that I'll catch any line thrown my way. I never thought my desire could be a simple cause for levity. For once, I feel _normal_. 'You've known about my… tastes for a while, haven't you?'

'I had my suspicions. There are mutterings that you fooled around with girls before you took charge but you hear that talk everywhere, comes with being noble.'

I wonder if Sejuani gets that from her tribe. Our forces like to make rude comments about her relationship with Bristle. I've seen the graffiti. Some of it is… disturbingly vivid. 'If you don't put any stock in rumour then what gave me away?'

'Sejuani.'

My breath catches. Anything but that! My obsession is a far greater crime than stray glances. I must choose my words carefully, not give myself away through denial. 'She is _very_ attractive, despite her ugly thoughts, but she is one handsome woman of many. Why Sejuani?'

Tryndamere shuffles, like he's gearing up for a long explanation. 'When you captured her, she tried to kill herself by not eating.' He dismisses her bravado with a sweep of his hand. 'Tribal nonsense, I've done it myself, but I got this feeling that… I had no proof, but I got this feeling that she was trying to impress you.'

'That kind of blackmail _really_ doesn't impress me.'

'I figured. After your display, Quinn won't forget anytime soon. By the way, that was a very good straight punch. First time you've kept your elbows in.' He taps on his skull. 'Back to Sej, I was curious enough to pry further into what makes her tick.' He raises both palms in supplication. 'I, er… look, I'm not proud of this but I tried to open her up by talking you down.'

I'm relieved by Tryndamere's confession. It's not like I've been charitable. 'I'm Queen. Everyone gossips about me.'

'Well, _I_ shouldn't. In my head, you were just an ambitious dreamer. I didn't fully get that you were a person with… feelings.' That's a hard word for Tryndamere to pronounce. 'I'm sorry.'

Was I that distant? So long, I was tunnelled into my goals. You can seem very cold in the depths of ardour, free of doubt, sympathy and weakness. 'Apology accepted. Thank you.'

Tryndamere nods with gratitude. 'Sej was… weird, far too preoccupied with the "lie" of our marriage, and she wanted to crush the Avarosan to preserve your honour.'

Oh, Sejuani, it's wonderful, romantic and deeply frustrating, how you strive to be my champion. Why must you channel such a noble urge in such a horrid way? 'The Winter's Claw have been around for generations. Our feud is not personal.'

'She has other goals, yeah, but _you're_ one of them… and the way she puffs out her chest and marks her territory like a man with tits, I began to wonder if she _liked_ you.'

'Am _I_ a man with tits?'

'I'm just saying how it went down. You're a fighter, Ashe. You make snap judgements or you take a knife in the back.' We're not discussing a fight. His metaphor doesn't stretch but he's right about one thing. I'm guilty of the same. The full sermon can wait until my flaws aren't under the magnifying lens. 'Now, my hunch could have been wrong, and four eyes are better than two, right?'

My nails dig into my palms. 'Whom did you tell?' If every guard in my palace knows about this, Tryndamere will pay.

'I'm talking about _you_. If Sej wanted your babies, you'd react.' He could have made his point without giving me a stroke. The thought of Sejuani carrying children makes up for it. Experience of growing heavy, slow and vulnerable could soften her edge, though she'd be a total bear upon giving birth.

I picture myself, holding Sejuani's warm back and stroking her pale bangs from her misty blue eyes while her body trembles with morning sickness. I nearly black out with emotion. Tryndamere's words pass me by until I gather my wits.

'…and sure enough, you grew restless and paranoid, like you were scared of being jumped.'

I quickly remember how to form sentences. 'I don't think any of us could rest with Sejuani here.'

'Well, no… I could put most of it down to stress and the fear of a rescue attempt.' He goes quiet.

This isn't like him. 'Tryndamere?'

'This is the hard part.' He stares into space and locks both hands before his mouth. 'I've been hiding something.'

'That's… not like you.' If _Tryndamere_ has an agenda, my life will be turned upside-down. 'Wh… what have you…?' My question fades into nothing.

'I was… the night Sej gave us the laugh, I was on "Udyr Patrol". No reason, I was bored. It happens a lot. He didn't get anywhere near the palace. It was an inside job.' I can't look at him. Grasping my legs, I draw the fur to my chin. 'And there was one person, Ashe, one _woman_ set on keeping Sej alive.' I shut my eyes and curl tighter. I wish I were more flexible so I could hide from the world, like a frightened hedgehog. 'The crazy thing is that you could have released her in public and I wouldn't have batted an eyelid. We might have disagreed but, hey, that's you. Mercy's your thing. No one here would question your _intent_… so why would you cover it up, unless there was a deeper motivation… one that would cause you to abandon all sense…'

If I had the energy to scream, I would shatter his bones. All that comes out is an empty wheeze. 'Are you going to make me say it? Why should I give you the satisfaction?'

'Because your silence will cost you everything,' says Tryndamere flatly. Raising the subject has drained him. For all his banter, he rarely confronts me. I guess he likes to keep his battles physical. 'This may come as a surprise but I give a damn about you. Reclaim your life before you destroy it.'

My frail body can't endure this. Every harsh gulp of air shreds my lungs. My abdominals flex and crush. 'I… I let her go. I didn't want her to die… because… I want _her_…'

Tryndamere finally shifts onto the bed. He supports me while I cry all the pain out of my system. It's remarkable, how a man so large can have so little presence. I can't even smell him. When we consummated our marriage it was like being mounted by a rock. I'm not sure if I'm blind to men or if solid emptiness wells from his deep trauma. 'You don't have to justify it. Yeah, you should let her go, but you know that already.' He sighs. 'We're at a stalemate. Even if you had the will, assaulting her territory is madness. I can't do it on your behalf without Jarvan.' He's trying to help in his way, grounding nebulous passion with logistics. The former is untouchable, the latter is merely unworkable. 'We can't rely on Sej to force your hand because her tribe have gone into hibernation. I can _guess_ why but… you would know better…' he waits for me to supply the missing knowledge.

'She loves me... but hates our way of life, and it's tearing her apart.'

'Well, there's no accounting for taste.' He can't resist an opening. I'd slap him but I'd only scratch my palm on stubble. 'I don't think she'll compromise until...' even Tryndamere has enough discretion to let me take that step.

I can. If Sejuani is facing the void, I should not look away. 'She died once.' Volibear's accusation thunders like a drumbeat. 'I think she's dying now.'

'One of your visions?' I nod in reply. 'That would explain her absence. For all her talk, I don't think she was built for this place, too inflexible. She'd have made a better Demacian.'

'If you told her that, we'd have our old foe back in no time.' Tryndamere has a point. I could imagine her in Shyvana's role. I could _definitely_ put Sejuani in that dress. 'You know, I think Quinn would have made a fine Avarosan... I'm not sure where I'd fit.'

'You're the most Freljordian person I know! Can't think of anyone more fit to rule a messed-up whirlwind of tangled ravines and frozen beauty.'

'Thank you.' The first vote of confidence after my public failure. 'And I can't imagine a better consort. You knew my secrets all along but never left my side, in court or in battle.'

'I just keep going. Honestly, I don't know any other way.'

'I hope you never learn.' I rest my head on Tryndamere's chest. 'Even if my dreams come true, your place is here.'

'Means a lot to hear that. I spend enough time feeling like an obstacle.' He squeezes my shoulder. 'Once all this is over, I'd like to see the world, give you a bit of room to socialise your new girl. I think being "Tryndamere, the Royal Adventurer" sounds more fun than being a third wheel.'

'Hmm, I don't know.' I trace his pectoral and follow his breastbone downwards. 'Being a third wheel could be fun and you _do_ have to provide an heir.'

'I'm sure you're a good lay with the right partner but after our wedding night, I'd sooner get a baster from the kitchen.' Ugh, that seems like a rather inauspicious beginning for an heir to the Freljord. However, Tryndamere's right. We shouldn't make each other miserable. 'And everyone who gets naked with you winds up asking for death.'

'Yes... I do have that effect.'

'You know how to pick them.' He tousles my hair. 'Back with us?'

I could step outside and go through the motions but my people deserve better. Who am I to the Avarosan? A child of destiny, a lonesome conduit for the past, present and future? On a mountain side, in the dead of night, every distant fire touches me. I revealed my forge to Quinn, showed her what I had forgotten.

With open eyes, I must return.

'I don't know... is there anything that requires my personal attention?'

'Everything's quiet.' He looks at me with concern. 'I hope you're going on a trip and not locking yourself in here for a month.'

'I'd like to spend some time in the field.'

Tryndamere beams with approval. I thought that would appeal to his outdoor nature. 'Sounds good! We can look after things while you're gone. As far as the troops know, you punched out a Demacian spy in front of Prince Jarvan. They love it.'

'And the rest of our court?'

'They're…' Tryndamere falters, 'confused and upset.'

'Of course.' I'm relieved. In the midst of all this chaos, disappointment is a normal response. 'They have every right to be.'

'I can fill them in but most of our crowd have loose lips, and you're better at keeping them shut.'

'What do _you_ recommend?'

Tryndamere is clearly surprised by my faith in his judgement. 'Erm... it's a risk but I'd tell Vivian.'

'Seriously?' Are we talking about the same Anivia? She'd explode and resurrect five times in one day.

'Sej is our biggest problem. We don't know what's up with her, and that's _dangerous_. If you weren't mistaken and she _was_ a corpse, I've no idea what actually came back. Viv's made that trip hundreds of times. Yeah, she loves drama but giving her a head-start might warrant the headache.'

'Do you think my... connection to Sejuani is relevant?'

'No idea but it wouldn't surprise me. The undead go for that sort of thing.'

'Okay,' I was dreading the revelation to Anivia. Ruining her little fairy tale would bring enough squawking and snowstorms to wake my ancestors and hurl them into the sea. 'If you could tell Anivia in my absence, I would be… _very_ grateful.'

Tryndamere laughs. 'Are you going to be pure filth because I know you don't mean it?'

'_May_be.'

'I might stick around after all.'

* * *

I venture into the Freljord, bearing the same equipment as a common scout and enough ink and vellum to record my dreams. If I can make "Sian" and "Ashe" one and the same, that would be a fitting homage to my dear Quinn, my hunter and my victim.

Sejuani, we bare claws and spill blood. On our frozen battlefield, we lock horns to decide the greatest predator.

Perhaps, we are both prey.


	10. Gemini - Chapter 1

_Sejuani_

* * *

**Gemini – Chapter 1**

There is no pride in waiting for death. Should war not claim us, we duel a worthy successor, hunt a legendary beast or wage our final crusade upon the Freljord itself.

We do not care for parents in old age. If they can't raise a knife to their throats, we draw their final circle with dignity, preserving our memories of their strength.

I won't lie. When you love someone, you cherish every moment and the last is never enough but we must put aside our covetous grief and perform our duty.

Volibear, why have you forsaken me?

* * *

I am Sejuani… at least, I _was_.

In exchange for my life, and a chance to save the Freljord, I had pledged my soul to Kalista. I believed that as long as I could swing a flail and give orders, I played my role. No one, apart from Volibear, had to know my loss.

However, the gloom was no static, unchanging backdrop. It was a direction, endless tracks running downwards. I could only follow. Every day I sank further and further, no rescue, no respite.

While I could form plans to keep the Winter's Claw from extinction, I was a poor conduit, lacking energy to provide oversight and enforcement. Volibear neglected his congregation to manage both tribes at once. My people respect how I clawed out of the grave but respect will not feed their bellies or slake their bloodthirst.

I lose all sense of time. It passes in theory, recorded in Volibear's schedule and Udyr's reports but I do not feel the progression. I think I sleep during the day then wake at night. Here, the two can be one and the same. I drag my bones outside and look at the stars but the stars tell me nothing.

* * *

Natural philosophy claims our world is hostile or indifferent. I believe our world is merciful, without Ashe's groundless interference.

How do I know?

Because nothing lasts forever.

My pain will end, in love or death.

I once had infinity.

* * *

The morning is cool, and I have the stamina to review my war table. The carved bones that signify large units have not shifted for weeks. Udyr and Volibear sit in council.

I hate being the smallest person in the room.

Once, only Volibear had the privilege to see under my crystal horns. Udyr has invited himself into my confidence. He talks with the spirit world and soon learnt about my deal with Kalista. Fortunately, he doesn't use that knowledge for personal gain. I would have to kill him otherwise, which would be a waste of his talent. While my condition remains private, I would sooner keep him close.

By his tell, the Winter's Claw were just a convenient weapon against Lissandra. Following my descent, I thought he'd leave to find a stronger bulwark. Respect is a cardinal vice to him but I have earnt _something_.

He doesn't remain seated for long. 'I've searched high and low. There's no sign of the Demacians.' Walking laps of the table, he makes few changes on Avarosan territory. 'With all that insufferable noise, you'd think Ashe would have enough cavalry to mount the world.'

Volibear harrumphs. 'Are you disappointed?'

'I prefer to be outnumbered, and I know the Demacians. They'd follow me blindly into the wastes and freeze to death. We could then attack the Avarosan base while their attention is elsewhere.' Udyr scoffs at Volibear's lack of enthusiasm. 'It's not like you to shy from a challenge.'

Volibear doesn't bite immediately. 'While Sejuani recovers, any battle against a larger force would be suicidal. There's nothing to gain from seeking death.'

'I would keep that from your berserker friend.' Olaf's impatience grows each day but he is too unreliable in small, precise engagements. I can't use him right now. 'You have one less flail but so long as your troops have Sejuani's direction, your edge remains.' Udyr's tiger spirit materialises, flashing an obscene gesture. 'Her frailty has made you soft. A _mother_ bear would express anger, not fear.'

Volibear growls. He _has_ grown too cautious but I owe my dearest ally some leeway. Breaking up their quarrel, I state. 'Even if I were at full-strength, Ashe knows your method. You've attempted similar gambits with no lasting impact.'

Udyr grins. 'Your esteem for the little rogue is eternal… and wise.' He brandishes an arrow, decked with a narrow cylinder. 'She was in your lands, _again_. Evidently, your scouts are no match for her.'

Volibear jumps to his feet. 'When did you know this?'

'Don't accuse me of games. I ran here as fast as I could.'

'You saw her fire it?' Volibear lunges for the cylinder, crowding Udyr's personal space.

'Of course,' Udyr stands his ground. He makes a point of handing the package to me. 'Her movements are very distinct, as are mine to her, no doubt.'

I brush the cylinder with hesitant fingers while the squabble endures. The hasty, blurred seal is Avarosan, deep within a surplus of bloody, bulbous wax. It is not the work of a patient, thrifty scribe. Ashe likely fastened it herself in poor conditions, more troubled with the safety of the message than appearance. I'm disturbed, as a notorious perfectionist like Ashe doesn't perform anything roughly… not without reason.

Volibear continues. 'Why didn't you follow? We might be under attack.'

'Look at our map!' Udyr sounds like a teacher, scolding a child. 'Ashe couldn't lead an army this deep without _my_ knowledge. However, she could bring enough people to lay a trap.'

'We have riders there! Why not use them?'

'Have you forgotten? I'm outside your chain of…'

'No!' Volibear snaps. 'Like it or not, you're an inspiration. Our skirmishers would obey your commands without argument. If you weren't so damn set on avoiding all responsibility, you could have ended this war!'

'_Your_ war.' Strolling away from his expertly sown chaos, Udyr pauses, beyond striking range. 'Besides… I thought your chieftain would appreciate Ashe's words more than her scalp.'

He can't say that openly. My voice is cold as my pulse rages. 'Get out.'

Udyr leaves, curiosity fed. I slump across the table, pressing my brow to the damp wood. Figurines tumble as the cylinder rolls across our map. I feel the ground shake when Volibear sits back down. He says, 'I respect him as a warrior but his arrogance can be… trying.'

'We conceal things and he discovers them. So long as the pattern holds, Udyr will behave like he's one step ahead.'

'Even if we told him everything, he wouldn't change. It could make him worse.'

'He is what he is. We needn't dwell on him.' I raise my head. 'Volibear?'

'Yes?'

My nails dig into my palms. 'Break the seal. I do not fear the contents.' Of course I do, yet I'm still prideful, insisting on my bravery to someone who knows me too well. 'But I fear hiding them.'

Volibear struggles. The lid is apparently screwed on. His large paws can't find a secure grip. I feel ashamed for mocking his dexterity with my simple request. He loses patience and bites off the top. His mouth curls back from his long teeth. 'Ugh… the wax is flavoured.'

'It might be poison!' If he dies, I will never pardon my carelessness.

'Enough to kill a _bear_?' His chops undulate. 'Winter berries. I half-expected blood.'

I breathe a sigh of relief. 'You honestly think that's her way?' Memory stirs. The pillow case that she fired across our border, weeks ago, bore her life's mark. 'She could use her own, I guess.'

'Or anyone's. You are blind to her cruelty.'

'I've endured it long enough.' While I speak, Volibear unhooks the string binding the vellum, using a single claw as a needle. '_She's_ the one who lives in denial of her true nature.'

Volibear nods grimly. 'She's a dangerous woman.' He taps the letter. 'Do you really want me to see this?'

'You don't think we've shared enough?'

He backs away from reading, unhappy with my answer. 'That's no reason to continue. Ritual needs purpose.'

I'm not in the mood for one of his lectures. 'After all you've done, I can't withhold my confidence.'

'You should honour me with your judgement. Your misguided sense of obligation does me no credit. We are people, remember, not beads on a divine abacus.'

'Are you refusing my trust?' I scowl. 'Warriors have _died_ only to serve me.'

'Why let fools decide your worth when you could use your strength and wisdom to prove yourself? Create a new world. You don't have to bow to the present.'

I know what this is really about. He's in denial, hoping a mortal could reason away Kalista's geas. I may have to repeat myself eternally while his ghost follows mine. 'You know the price I paid. I have no mental blocks, no trauma. She _took away_ my power to conceive the future.'

'You can rise above her!' Volibear's _basso profondo_ wavers in anguish. 'Kalista's nothing more than a tool of base want. You can write a new page, right now. Tell me… what is _your_ wish? Do I read Ashe's words… or not?'

When you _are_ the void, you can't form judgements in one. All I can think about is one step, following another, two seconds before, nine seconds, fifteen… Volibear makes a request. I fulfil. 'Presumably, she's worded her message for prying eyes. Read.'

I see no triumph in Volibear's careful movements, unrolling Ashe's letter. Perhaps, he is not as bull-headed as I thought, and his end was merely to reinforce the habits of leadership while venting some angst. He's good at small victories, finding reasons to carry on.

He snorts. Apparently, the very sight of Ashe's handwriting offends him. 'She means to cause trouble from the first line.'

'Give me her words _then_ your thoughts… if you must,' I grumble.

'"Sejuani, my love."' Why do sweet nothings have this much power? Glow-worms dance in my stomach. 'I'm glad someone else didn't find this.'

How strange are these times if _Udyr_ sets our benchmark for discretion? 'Are my tribe so restive that Ashe's taunts have weight?'

'An excitable few might infer sincerity. The point is that she feels bold enough to call you such without retribution. Her tone is _dominance_.'

It amuses me how neither of us took Ashe's endearment at face value. 'Hmph, I always thought love was a kind of submission.'

'Or a finely tuned jealousy…' Volibear seems distracted, as though sensing a new threat. 'Rather than track her prey, she begs you to jump into her mouth.'

I shudder. _No one_ stalks the Winter's Wrath but… with the thought of being prey… I feel hot breath, rolling over my neck, lascivious claws upon each flank. How much I resented ownership of these wide, useless, child-birthing hips! At least, my heavy, swollen bosom can intimidate with the right presentation but why must _I_ be the chosen wall for nature's graffiti? Why paint a vulgar target on a body, built for carnage? 'What else?'

Volibear removes all ardour from Ashe's tale. '"I worry that our bond is killing us both. My recent actions brought shame upon Avarosa, pushing me to find solitude. I'm haunted with dreams of your broken form. Please come to Fjölnir Spire. Though we may not resolve our differences, we might answer questions, unmask lies or end rumours."'

I catch Volibear's glance. Three silent words pass between us, "Or start them".

Awkwardly, Volibear continues. '"I may have desires no mortal woman could ever suppress but I don't ask for reciprocation."' He pauses, while I cover my blush. I recognise a plea to my tribe, Ashe declaring herself a passionate leader who cares not for my wishes. The combination of guile, battle, sex and love rouses me greatly. She can be magnificent. '"I merely ask you to come alone. While this letter is not an ambush, I could arrange one if your nosy pet shaman crosses my dreams again."'

I stow my rage, knowing Ashe's flair for manipulation, but this looks bad on Volibear. 'How could she know about you?' While he walked through my sleeping mind, _I_ couldn't sense him. Unless new powers have joined our conflict, I have to assume he's been talking with her.

'She's… misinterpreting.' If he tries to weasel out of an answer, my hope is gone. Volibear's the only person I fully trust. 'I can't… _view_ her from a distance. All I can do is call. She might hear something and reply but it's like shouting from a well. At best, you can hear pain, joy… the words themselves often distort.'

I'm relieved, having already figured out where this is going. 'So why did you call her?'

'No reason… it was a moment of weakness. I… _had_ to convey your suffering and my… helplessness.' Volibear hangs his head. 'All I heard was turmoil, a demand for you to reach out, as if it's _your_ burden to leave _your_ tribe. Still, I should have been strong enough to bear my troubles, and wise enough to show prudence. Your trials are privileged information. I betrayed your confidence. I'm sorry.'

As always, he blames Ashe, and he blames himself even more. I just wish he'd blame me. 'You told her about Kalista?'

'No.'

'We're okay then. I died on top of her, came back and left in your arms. It would look strange if you _didn't_ lash out.' I lay my hand on his gargantuan paw. 'I'll say one thing. I trust you to carry my weight. You should trust me with yours.'

'My old eyes are failing. It is hard to find space upon your back.'

'Your eyes are fine. I'd rather you break my spine than let me go on like this.'

'I…' Volibear shields his brow. 'I'm not having this conversation again. We talk in circles.'

'It is a straight line and you won't follow me to the end.'

'"Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made."' One of Volibear's favourite sayings about us. He means it as a compliment. 'You know full well there is no path. You have the freedom to…'

'Yes, if one has the means. Do you think a lame beast, walking a figure eight within a cage, is free? You should leave her to the wolves or march her to the slaughterhouse.' Pushing off the table, I force myself upright. Once, I could perform one-handed pull-ups in full armour. Now I can barely stand. 'Is there anything else?'

Volibear says flatly. '"Yours in hope, Ashe."' Moving through torchlight, his giant frame casts a long shadow, plaintive blackness deepening his gaze. 'Please don't go.'

'What are my choices? Die from risk or die from inactivity? You keep urging me to flex my will. Now I'm finally taking action.'

'You're letting Ashe control you.'

'By meeting her challenge? The Winter's Claw _fight_. We have no purity of action because, without opposition, we have nothing. You saw this when you dragged your tribe out of their coma.'

'I did so to thwart ruin. Your actions will hasten it.'

'Ashe kept me alive once.' I remember starving myself in her dungeon to foil her advances. Rather than let me die, she forced life into my body with her tongue and set me free, while chains of love entwined us both. 'Here, I'm wasting away. Confronting her may give me time.'

'…enough to die from ten thousand emotional cuts.' Volibear changes tack. 'Fjölnir Spire is no clan's territory for good reason. Without an escort, you might fall prey to the Freljord itself.'

'That's a fine way to go, and Ashe's threat was clear. We both know her capabilities.'

'Even if you trust Ashe to lay down her bow, do you trust her followers?'

'I know Tryndamere wouldn't cross her.' Naturally, survival is the greasy barbarian's one talent. You could throw him into a volcano but some ledge would break his fall. 'The rest of them have no reason to go near Fjölnir Spire without orders.'

'Apart from her yeti rider. Nunu goes everywhere.'

Volibear's reminder is welcome. That innocent looking child is a Frostguard, worth a whole squad of pampered Avarosan. 'True but we have our own pest. Have Udyr run interference away from our supplies. Nunu will pounce. Olaf can ensure we don't lose all to Willump's gut.'

'I was hoping Udyr could watch your back until the final approach. At least endure my company within our lands.'

'You know that Ashe's hawk spirit sees farther than before. She'll panic if you're by the south-eastern border.'

'Sejuani, please…' Volibear takes my hand, almost kneeling so he can look at me, face to face.

When I finally cross over to pay Kalista for my sustained presence… I wouldn't call this "life"… dear Volibear will have my protection between acts of vengeance. Guiding him back to full height, I look up, although thoughts conspire to drag me down. He should remember me standing tall, undaunted by his power. 'Volibear, your friendship is worth more than I could ever say… but I would surrender all my wealth, material and otherwise, to spare your might from sorrow. Perhaps I was never born to lead us to victory. Perhaps the future belongs to _you_.'

His paws rest on my shoulders. I couldn't survive his embrace. Even his gentle grip is like a vice, moulding joints and cartilage as if they were spider webs. 'No… this is only the pain talking. You _can_ get through this. Please don't give up.'

'I will never give up. Our fight is eternal, so you must organise the Winter's Claw in my absence, rather than wait for my return.'

'I am a spiritual guide and a warrior, not a general.'

'You have wisdom, courage and foresight. Our forces heed your words and follow your charge. All you lack is experience and that comes with time.' It's easy to forget how recently Volibear came to prominence. He rules with such grace that our people underestimate his rapid learning. I suspect he is coy, regarding his intelligence, to break with the past. 'You may never reach Ashe's level. Few do… but you could reach Tryndamere's. If Ashe's words have any truth, he might lead our opposition.'

'He'll have better counsel.' Volibear's huge form swells then compresses with a deep sigh. 'But I can hold your fort while you slay your dragon.'

I smile. 'That is the best way to think of this… another dangerous quest of many.'

'Perhaps… I had faith then.' We've beaten impossible odds together. 'As l do now.'

For so long, hope has been a prayer to another culture's god, an emotion I could recognise but never truly grasp. Occasionally, faith grows from a real sense of the divine, other times, an expression of the heart's deepest wish. For an outsider, knowing is impossible. Who am I to question his words? All I can do is reply, 'thank you.'

Volibear pads the length of my war table, as though surveying ancient ruins. 'Do you have any guidance?'

It's a pleasure to review battle instead of my failings. 'Leave Udyr to his own devices. He may be wilful but he's a good skirmisher who knows when to go in and out. While he's drawing attention, damage their infrastructure then _back off_. Ashe's rangers will grind you to a halt within her lands if you go too deep. We can't win through guerrilla warfare alone but, as a holding pattern, it works. You can develop your knowledge while Udyr keeps them busy.'

'That sounds… possible.' Volibear's dry consideration gives me cheer. Facing reality will achieve more than weltering under my false light. 'Your troops have to provide more feedback. I've noticed you make decisions based on very little information.'

'Once you know the pace of local wildlife, weather, patrols, disease, consumption…' I gesture across our map, 'you can surmise a lot. However, you're right to ask what you don't know.'

'Good. If you don't return, your army, your _legacy_, will shed every last drop of weak Avarosan blood and nourish the Freljord for generations to come!'

Volibear's hatred of Ashe frightens me. His equilibrium is a precious rock and I'm pulling him over a cliff. 'Our goal is to conquer the living. After that, you can avenge the dead.'

He nods without answering. I pray that's not a dark omen. He stretches a paw across the map, silently converting the span of his claws to miles. 'Fjölnir Spire is two days and two nights on two legs.' He snorts with dull humour. 'You could easily spend two days… conversing.' His pale snout wrinkles. He clearly suspects Ashe's intent and my resistance, how quaint. I suppose I'd feel the same in his place. 'Without complications, you'd be there and back in a week… or less?' The last qualifier is an obvious plea.

'There will be complications. Make it two.'

Volibear's fur crackles. 'That puts you at _far_ too much risk. What are you planning to do with all that time?'

'Simply watch her, liberated from her culture's interference. I want Ashe to realise her potential, away from lies and hypocrisy. You've seen her in battle. Imagine that without limits!'

'She might be worse than Lissandra.' He moves his head, like he's peering through a smokescreen. 'Promise me, you won't lower your guard, however bold her approach.'

'I'll avoid sleeping with her. My judgement is flawed enough.'

'That wasn't my concern. I'm sure _you _won't pursue congress. That isn't… your way.'

Volibear's perusal of my dreams gave him an excruciatingly candid view of my sexual behaviour. He shouldn't raise that knowledge without my permission but I can't expect his memory to work or fail at my command. 'From your hesitation, you don't mean to praise my self-control. Out with it.'

'You don't claim any spoils or tribute while many of your tribe, _and_ your victims, beg your favour.'

He's not wrong. I picture those men and women, fierce raiders who become simpering fools to "serve" their leader. One of our most promising spear-throwers wasted hours of her time, sewing erotic attire, learning to dance and plucking her body hair to catch my gaze. I repaid her with exile to my north-eastern border. The Frostguard will teach her what skills I _truly_ need. 'Really, Volibear? I may be young and virile but I have standards. No one is worthy.'

My words make Volibear curl, as if he's fighting an urge to wrap himself around me, preventing unseen blades from tearing seams, cloth and flesh. 'A… hunter does not ask her quarry to prove its worth.'

I feel goose bumps all over my sensitive, abhorrent skin. I wish I could rip it all off and replace it with rocks and ice. 'Are you saying that I am _hunted_?'

'I pray not. I lose enough sleep imagining threats to your person.'

Concealing my response with action, I prepare to leave. 'Well, if you _insist_ on living in fear because of _me_…' I speak through clenched teeth as I struggle with my gloves. 'Then I will spare you the shame and hurry to my fate.'

'You can spare me nothing.' Volibear's quiet words break my stride. 'After all, if shame were so easily destroyed, why value pride? Every true feeling is an everlasting scar.' He lumbers to see me off, his massive form laden with care. 'Whatever your course… even if you pass on… I will _always_ think of you, Sejuani, as a parent worries for their cub. You may thank me or curse me. Nothing will change.'

My legs nearly buckle. I've known my place in Volibear's heart for a while but never so plain. He was denied fatherhood in his prime due to his radical beliefs, only to be sterilised through vindication, a brutal countermeasure to prevent one bloodline hoarding power from a chosen ancestor. The storm is cruel but wise, knowing residual energy leaps from every spark. Volibear, more than anyone, feels the rightness of his tragic fate.

I cover my warm eyes with little corrections of my fringe, 'then I will thank you, rather than add to your pain.'

'I'd rather you cursed me than felt responsible for my happiness but…' a sigh darkens the compliment, 'you're a good woman, Sejuani.' My body feels like a strange costume. "A good woman"? What does that phrase mean to someone like me? With growing apprehension, I study my helmet in silence until Volibear continues. 'If you're not back in two weeks, I _will_ come for you.'

There was nothing more I could say to ease our parting, nothing at all.


	11. Gemini - Chapter 2

**Gemini – Chapter 2**

That which takes a lifetime can be lost in a heartbeat.

As a child, I braved open skies with courage and a loincloth, walking in a line with adult men who proudly exposed wide, muscular pecs to hungry eyes and lips. My own smooth, pale body was a canvas, a garden with two little seeds, and room beneath to grow whatever I sought.

While I drew my course, my destination had already been set with a callous flip of nature's coin.

I remember the day well. My teachers were frightened. I was the smallest in my group after years of towering above. The matron whipped off my clothes, took various measurements, peered, prodded, pinched, pulled legs and arms akimbo then scraped each armpit with a burnt finger. She blithely said I "stunk right" and was due a growth spurt any time soon. I would surely become a healthy young woman.

I laughed. A woman? Why would anyone think that? I never said I was going to be a woman.

Using old yokes from our stores, I bound my chest. Even though I struggled to breathe, I slept easy, knowing my flesh would grow dense and lean. I hid a scrap of cloth under my blanket. Every time I woke on my front, I bit my finger to mark another day closer to my goal. My torso began to swell and itch. I was getting blisters from the constant rubbing of cracked leather. I resisted all temptation to remove the straps and look.

When I saw blood on my thighs, I panicked, assuming, from our wolves, that I was in heat. I vanished into the plains to bury my crotch in a snow drift, hoping to freeze any shameful urges. When I felt only cramp, I found a cave in which to hide. After three days of cold, loneliness and hunger, the bleeding stopped. I collapsed on my return, glad to surmount another challenge. A month later, the cycle repeated. Unwilling to forgo more training, I lagged my undergarments with wool and powered on. Again, I felt only discomfort, rather than a desire to spread my legs or display my buttocks. I concluded I was now safe. The bleeding meant something else. Maybe I would have a cock soon.

I devoured as much food as possible to grow strong. When I didn't see clear gains, I bolted anything remotely organic, vermin, pigswill, carrion. I was throwing up as my guts wouldn't process the volume. In half a year, my hips grew massive. I couldn't walk or run properly. Every step was like a swing of a giant pendulum, causing my arms to flail and catch the air, slowing me down. I locked my elbows to my ribs, drove my fists earthward. I compelled my body to remain square before that inappropriate feminine swish became a habit.

I grew clumsy. My balance faltered, as mind and muscle rejected my new proportions. Without a firm core and loose joints, my punches, kicks and weapon strikes became brittle. Fortunately, my teachers knew all about sudden blows of adolescence. They chose to work on my brain for a while, introducing me to geography, tactics and mounted combat.

Riding was a revelation. I enjoyed seeing the theatre of battle from up high. With speed and artistry, I drew lines between units and skirmishes. My thoughts could raze villages quicker than my body. That ray of hope, that source of victory, kept me on the path to becoming chieftain, even as other doors closed.

I was drunk on perspective, obsessed with becoming six foot as I memorised all the figures to run campaigns. Blending means, medians and modes, an average Winter's Claw male was a hair short of that magical number of leadership. Unfortunately, I stalled at a weak five foot nine, larger than most women but unexceptional for the Freljord.

In my dreams of another world, Ashe wore flats alongside my generous walking boots. The large height difference, that she found so attractive, was a naked lie.

The pantomime couldn't last. On a warm, close night, our skies laden with purple storm clouds, I writhed in agony. My chest was damp, sore and sticky, burning like hot venom. Torn asunder with the thought I was lactating, I ran outside with arms covering my shame, refusing to look down.

A guard saw the rivulets of blood, red claws joining hands with stretch marks over my belly.

Dragged before the matron, I screwed up my eyes while she fought my straps. The leather had split and gouged my dirty, swollen flesh. I hadn't washed it for months. The primary knot was a monstrous clutch of dead skin, old scabs and rusted metal, caked with pus. It required a bone saw to cut loose. With a snap, I felt an unwelcome shift of weight.

One of the cuts had become infected. I was lucky not to have gangrene, said the matron, scrubbing welts with brine. She pottered about her store while I sat, blind, half-naked and shivering. Atop a quiet orchestration, a prelude of rustling, her low contralto sang that I was foolish to do such things to my body when I was blessed and beautiful. It would have lovely, strong children and make someone very happy.

Like a shroud, a supple garment was draped across my torso then beneath my armpits. A pinch on the back and a push on my shoulder blades ordered me to slouch. I felt an upward force, like I was dangling from a rope. Experienced hands loosened the pinch. I released a bitter sigh of comfort, and opened my eyes. After years of looking ahead to an impossible future, I looked down… to see my prodigious bosom nestled within my first bra.

Giving up, I demanded to know how this unwanted form actually worked. After a series of nightmarish tales, I rose precariously. Muscles finally strove to accommodate, rather than ignore, this heavy, stupid surplus.

I told my nurse that if she ever called me beautiful again, I would boil her in a pot with the blood of her lovely, strong children.

With the sudden appearance of my woman's walk and woman's dress, I'd anticipated lechery, scorn, abuse and rejection, easily repaid in violence. However, the bastard men gave me pity, like I was a promising young raider who'd lost an eye before his prime. Unlike me, they were not wilfully benighted regarding my fate, which made the sight of me no less wretched.

I bore my sex openly, subjecting my hated form to the cold until even a hailstorm felt like a summer breeze. Once my adaptation was complete, I donned a full suit of armour to cover my distorted flesh and became just another scarred warrior. Only my scars were a different hue.

Now, I can feel the chill once more. Half a season within a dreary cocoon had reversed years of conditioning. Perhaps the wind blows through the hollow where my soul used to be.

* * *

Through the wilderness, I march. Every step is like dragging a corpse to a pyre. Before, my shoes would float across the drifts like a tern through the sky. Sweat plasters my body hair to the coarse underlay, plucking and scraping.

I could have taken Bristle then asked him to fetch me within two weeks but his company would have guaranteed a safe trip. I wanted a chance to die. Confronting a trackless environment with all your mettle in pure, solitary destruction is a tested way of leaving this plane without regrets, no sentimental dance or inadequate final words, just emotion without language or constraint.

Ice burns my sight and gnaws at my toes. Fjölnir Spire grows like an obscene cloud from the boundless white. Although my destination looms, I could still perish from exhaustion. Frozen senses register no pain but I can feel its echoes. Every twist of my knee causes my hands to shake.

I may breathe my last in Ashe's embrace. After yearning for a clean death, I crave her passionate, flowing touch, like warm silk bandages on tired muscle.

The spire's name suggests a dignified monolith, not a perverse explosion of rock, boiling and spreading like a tumour. She could lurk within countless warrens, dug into the stone by prehistoric yordles, but I trust her vigilance. If I ascend, Ashe will know, somehow.

Treacherous curves allow few paths onwards but a fortune-seeking mage had left his mark before reddening sharp fangs. A million years of hibernation were disturbed when a conjured meteorite shower, reminiscent of the catastrophe that slayed the monster's kin, rained footholds upon its lair.

Gathering enough energy to delve into this lethal maze, I begin to scale. My legs are vast weights of bone, dangling from weak hips. I'm not sure what's going on beneath my waist as I lurch upwards.

Heat explodes in my foot. I scream like a child and fall, dashing my cheek against rocky stubble. The sickly throb is an old friend, an irritating, presumptuous one. Ever since I fumbled an early dismount, I've had issues with my left ankle. It sprains readily. Limping through the pain isn't an option as I'm so frail that every little bump is magnified. Rolling over, I look at my boot. A wide crack, an evil smile, gapes from the side. I've had so little motivation that I'd forgone servicing my battledress.

I deserve my fate.

Rare is the power less fickle than justice. A figure soon approaches. I recognise the rapid, careful tread. You would never compare that rhythm to a graceful cat or a tenacious wolf. It is cautious, contained, aggressively human, a dogged response to the wild sprit of the Freljord.

A woman, dressed in colour-bled armour, grey fur, grey hide, warily stalks me with her bow drawn. Her sleeves and britches are deeply stained like a butcher's apron, or the robe of a priestess who carves out young virgin hearts for a lovelorn ásynja.

Beneath the cowl is a face of classical beauty, the marble contours highlighted with the ruby rich dyes of nature, her full sensuous lips… the thrilling evidence of her savage prowess.

My little thoughts trip over themselves, like pebbles down a gorge.

Ashe remains vigilant. 'You came…' her eyes dance with the horizon. 'Does anyone else know?'

'Volibear…'

With a spectral cry, her bothersome hawk retraces my path. I've lost count of the times that Ashe's peerless vision denied us victory.

Her lashes flutter while the ghost relays information. 'He's not here… yet.' She takes off her gloves and raises my head. Her terrible softness controls me. There's no reason for her to caress my jaw with bare fingertips like this, no reason but cruel manipulation. Doves claw through my stomach, thieving energy from weakening muscles, reducing me from a vicious marauder to an eager, helpless maiden. Her crystal, reed-like tones cut through the storm. 'Thank you for telling me. You had every cause to lie.'

Fidgeting within her lap, I snort with self-reproach, and also because my nostrils are leaking from the cold. 'You're right. I should have respected your guile and kept my advantage.'

Ashe hiccups with joy. 'Oh, sorry. Tryndamere warned, something else might have come back, wearing your skin.' Perhaps I am another creature with stolen thoughts. I worry Tryndamere and I have been asking similar questions. 'You're still my stubborn Sejuani.'

'Since when have I been _yours_?'

'A girl can dream.' Her gaze wanders over my form. I feel naked as my hidden, hated sexual characteristics draw attention. 'Your boot's ripped. I'm guessing you've sprained your ankle.'

She was only checking for injuries. If only I could flee my toxic imagination or quash this body's electrical response. I can't look at her. 'Yes.'

'Here. Let's get you inside and warm you up.' I tense while she guides me to sit upright. Her arms encircle my waist like the coils of a snake. I pull away. 'Sorry! I…' her palm rests on my back. 'I promise I won't do anything untoward. I just want to help.'

Ashe's brazen touch was her deadliest weapon. As her captive, those eager hands brushed my hair, ears and mouth, working dark magics that control me to this day. However, it's not like her to express awareness, let alone contrition. I ponder what's changed as I grunt my consent and wrap an arm around her neck. I'm so glad she's wearing a cloak. It shields me from intoxication by her platinum-blonde hair.

We climb to our feet. Ashe looks at the ground, rather than for danger, as we commence our journey. Something's wrong. 'Ashe?' I'm thrown by her clemency. I have come to… expect her sensual punishment as the natural order of our relationship. 'Thank you.'

My gratitude spurs hope. She lunges, kissing one tiny corner of my lip, inciting thirst without quenching it. As my self-respect howls in defiance, my heart whimpers for more.

Time stops. The blood ceases flowing to her cheeks. 'I… No!' She covers her face in realisation. 'You startled me. To think you'd ever… _thank_ me for helping you and… it's not fair!' She frantically drops her anger. 'Two minutes… and I've already broken my promise.' I don't acknowledge her guilt. When it's clear that I'm not going to respond, she tries to bridge the chasm with small talk, vain little grappling hooks of communication. 'You're… lighter than you seem. I thought you'd lost weight… around your face. Are you sick or…?'

My visible decline is a raw subject. Thanks to Ashe's betrayal of my trust, her forbidden kiss, I have a perfect reason to keep any misery to myself.

She gives up. Her eyes flash with rage. We move in silence.

I conceal my weakness but, in questioning my heft, Ashe denies her strength. We're both liars.

* * *

The path leads to a cavern, buried amongst winding towers like the maw of a kraken. Ashe lights our way, brandishing a magical knife. The blue metal feebly shines with her naïve talent, a primal affinity for ice, the birthright of any Freljordian woman. I'm sure I could amplify the weapon's glow, reveal every pothole and stalactite. However, watching her struggle soothes the burn of my dependence.

The ground is marked with endless tracks of blood, evidence of a predator heaving a carcass to its lair. The viscera piles thick and fresh, playing hell with the shallow tread of my boots. I nearly tumble. My flailing arms whip around Ashe in a lover's embrace. Her eyes plead as my gasp warms her neck. I resist her call.

We finally reach an artificial barricade. Rocks make up the base, while the top half comprises two fox pelts and a wind chime of bones. Anything heavier than cold air would rattle the grisly percussion and rouse the occupant. With a sweep of her glove, Ashe plays a morbid arpeggio. The stench of death rushes forth like a foul hurricane.

I am no stranger to the smell of war but I've rarely known such a vile combination of old and fresh meat. Ashe watches me convulse. I don't know whether I see pity, hope or triumph in her stare, while an impenitent warlord reveals a "human" side in response to butchery. She finally talks. 'I should have warned you. I've been sleeping with my kills. After I… did something terrible… for a second… I had a taste for human blood.' Her eyes go blank, as if a dead expression could enforce dead emotion. 'I thought if I grew numb to the smell, or grew sickened, I would… I wouldn't...' As our language fails, I conceive a million replies but only retch. Ashe regains her composure then rubs my back as if I'm an overgrown child. 'I'm sorry. There's an underground river. I can dispose of…'

'I'm _fine_.'

'You're not!'

'I am the Winter's Wrath!' though I hardly deserve my reputation. 'Do not use _me_, of all people, as an excuse to surrender your trophies.'

'They aren't my "trophies". Whatever they call you, we have no titles here. Forget all of that and be a woman for once in your life.'

As if I would take the chance, after years of running away. 'That's easier said than done.'

Her smile darkens with mutual pain. 'I know.'

* * *

The rectangular cavern doesn't seem like an accident of geology. Some creature, with the means to fashion rock, must have sensed the water, burrowed a path then settled here. The river skirts the length of the right-hand wall. Ashe's knife remains our only source of light, so I can't see all the way to the back. Our comfortable space, before stalactites encroach, looks ten feet wide and eight feet high.

Resting my leg on Ashe's discarded rucksack, I watch enviously while she carves up less edible corpses with no trace of discomfort and throws them into the stream. 'You are a born hunter,' I say.

'Evidently,' she replies, wiping a stray lick of blood from her nose, 'but if I could choose…'

'_I_ wouldn't change you.' She pauses her work. Acceptance's lure can be powerful and unwelcome. 'The world bends to your arm. Were you born to my people, we could rule Valoran.'

Ashe peers at her gore covered sleeves. 'With your clan's tutelage, I'd have left you to die.'

'Maybe you should have.'

'Really? Take your own advice. Three times, you could have ended my reign. Twice, you withheld a lethal blow. The third time, you actually saved me.'

'That was necessary. While I was… gone, I saw the future.' Her curiosity will find a way should I not reveal my secrets. However, I should use disclosure to my benefit rather than squander it thoughtlessly. 'Had Lissandra's plan worked, your surviving allies would have prevailed. I couldn't allow their cancerous growth to smother the Freljord.'

Ashe laughs bitterly. 'So my leadership is an obstacle? I've had my suspicions… but you're the first person to come out and say it.' Her knife clatters off the ground. 'Why spare my life before that?'

'I was weak.' Ashe wants me to confess my love or mercy. Those "higher" thoughts are merely false alibies for base ruin. 'You look for hypocrisy in my deeds, a hidden belief in second chances, redemption, harmony… but there is no contradiction, just weakness and failure.' I look up into the shadows of her grey hood. With her pale skin and blue eyes, Ashe might be the reverse of Kalista, both, angels of death. 'And if I am weak then you should have punished me for it.'

'"Should" have punished you? What about choice?'

'You can do as you please.'

'Can I? Whether I kill or spare you… I am still cruel. What if I don't want to be cruel? How can I make _that_ choice?'

'Everything is possible here but…' I slump in defeat. 'I can't see like I once did.'

Ashe reclines next to me, presumably to give a shoulder to cry on. 'Sej…' realising her mistake, she covers her mouth.

'"Sej" is fine,' I concede. It's a barrier that, one day, would fall, in mockery or friendship. 'I've been called worse.'

'Haven't we all?' Ashe chuckles. 'Dare I ask?'

'Udyr,' I grumble. 'That's as much as you're getting.'

'So he's a thorn in your side as well? That might be cold comfort when he lures another scouting mission off a tall cliff.'

'I'm surprised your standing orders permit long chases.'

'Believe me. "Don't chase Udyr" tops the list in black and white but once people are in the wild, they do as they please.' I'm surprised Ashe doesn't apply the simple fix, a _positive_ response. _Do_ secure nearby settlements upon finding Udyr, rather than _don't_ chase him. Even if Ashe rivals the greatest minds from orthodox martial traditions, it reassures me to know she has blind spots. 'Oh, the joys of leadership, hey?'

She's looking for a peer, someone who knows what she's going through, but everyone at our level is on a different side. Her need is familiar to me. However lucky I am to know Volibear, he's more fluent in personal matters than logistics, and I can rarely have a nice long talk about supply chains, or the lifespan of hunting equipment versus weight or cost. Unfortunately, I can't share numbers with Ashe, far too dangerous. 'If anything, my tribe show too much loyalty. I'd rather they stood up to me once in a while.'

'You _are_ scary.' Lies, Ashe doesn't fear me, just herself.

I lift and stretch my wounded leg. 'Only by your standards. I can barely walk, let alone fight. If they're set on keeping me alive, they should at least relegate me to mucking out the boars rather than riding one into battle.'

'Perhaps they respect your other qualities, your courage and wisdom. Perhaps they just like having you in charge.'

'If they're so comfortable, they should revolt before they stagnate.'

'And refuse what they truly want? I think you're the only member of your tribe who feels obliged to suffer.' When I don't respond, Ashe tries to encourage me by lifting my chin. I pull away. Her sharp exhalation cuts like a sword. I can't say whether she's annoyed with her lack of discretion or my intransigence. 'Well, if you're set on feeling worthless, can I please myself?'

'Could I stop you?'

'I guess not. You're wounded… weary…' she bites her lip. 'I could… easily force my wishes upon you.'

My limbs tense and lock, all my strength turned against me, like a dragon swallowing its own fire. When our gazes meet, something passes, a quiet acknowledgement of dark halves we both despise. Briefly, I remember Volibear's comment about my refusal to claim lovers. In my position, Ashe would be a scourge upon daughters and mothers alike. Her appetite is plain to those who watch. Only tradition keeps her in check, while nothing stops me from discarding my current celibacy.

When Ashe talks again, her voice trips on each word. 'Of course, I would… never… do… _that_.' She winces. 'I _would_ like to provide a warm bed, a meal and whatever medicine I have.' She fetches a bulging satchel. 'I took this from our stock and I've had no reason to look inside.'

'You're that good?'

'I don't like to brag. It's more that I have an iron gut, and if I can't live off the land, I panic.' She gently pushes me down. I wonder if she feels my heart, pumping through the crook of my shoulder. She appears to savour the loosening of each knot in my bootlace. 'We can't have your foot swelling up in here.' The throbbing ache seems to race in delight when freed of its malodorous prison. Ashe walks her fingertip from ankle to instep. 'Hmm, your skin is very flushed. I know it's probably sore but you've no signs of deep frostbite.' With a coy smile, she tilts her head. 'You can see the blonde hairs leading up to your big toe.' She brushes the sole. 'I'm jealous. Even with all this grime, you have really high, beautiful arches. Mine are a bit low. Too much walking, I guess.' Despite a cavalcade of silent objections, I'm swooning from her care. She lightly kisses the ball of my foot. Something in my response must have given her courage. 'Nothing looks broken apart from your nails. I may have to file them.'

'Do you…?' Thrown by her attention, I can't really speak.

'What? Like feet?' Ashe looks wistful. 'I just like women but I knew a… girl who liked my feet… silly thing.' She goes quiet.

'An old lover?'

'A… recent one.' She looks hard at me. Should I be jealous? I am, but I _do_ like the idea of her spurning men, especially Tryndamere.

'Good,' I say. Her brow deepens at my response. 'You should ignore the petty rules of your tribe and quench your thirst.'

'You didn't see the mess I left her in.' Ashe wordlessly packs an abrasive poultice around my sprain.

'What do you mean?'

'Forget it!' She's punishing me by withdrawing her confidence. 'I don't want to hear you rhapsodise about what a great woman I am for torturing someone better.'

She roughly tosses a blanket over me then sets a fire going. I watch her turn a chunk of meat, already clean of blubber. Juice drips until a waxy, then charred, seal forms. Under the smell of burning flesh, I recognise the perfume and yellow flame of birch. It only grows in Ashe's territory. Countless raids upon her bountiful woods provided warmth and light for our banquets. I was never concerned with such fleeting pleasures but I sanctioned our many quests for timber as it encouraged our fighters and weakened our foes.

The power of the bright, smokeless fuel pales before the righteous blaze of Ashe. Her skin glows with passion. Her eyes glimmer, doors to the vast white plains of her cold, rational mind, all contained within womanly wonder… but she lives in fear and shame of her presence. Others leave no mark upon Valoran, while she tiptoes through corridors of paper, mourning every fold and footprint.

She deserves a world free of pathetic restraints. With a single blow, she could raze her venal house of cards. Instead, she chooses to carry it on her shoulders…

Just as Volibear carries me.

The battle for this land atrophies gradually from a clash of civilisations to a snake eating its own tail.

I'd save us all if I could.


	12. Gemini - Chapter 3

**Gemini – Chapter 3**

I sleep, watching Ashe watch me. Once you've crossed over twice, death, dream, part of you remembers the divide, learns to see through it, haunting reality from afar like a ghost riding invisible currents of history.

Does my second sight mean this brutal warrior has become a shaman? All those paths I rejected or pursued, only to walk a third way, shown by the forced opening of my third eye.

The haunch of meat slowly cools in Ashe's grip. After going through the trouble of preparing a meal, her reward is my refusal. With an indulgent sigh, like a mother chiding a newborn, she jostles my shoulder, causing my dream-self to rock. All I have to do is answer the door but I remain here, uncommunicative, out of reach.

A new, familiar voice dashes my solitude. 'Are you scared?' I was not feeling Ashe's touch. Another person calls. I turn to face... myself, reclining naked, heavy bosom squeezed provocatively between biceps. One leg is drawn up, and one stretches out, offering a clear view of below. Shuddering, I turn away fast. 'Of course you are.'

'What is this? Who are you?' My snarl is a pitiful sham. I can hardly sound frightening without eye contact.

She ratifies my doubt with a low, grunting laugh. 'Hmm… you're stalling, what a surprise. You know _exactly_ who I am. All those long, lonely days you spent with Ashe in your fantasy, hiding… and now…' slithering nearer, she pollutes my senses, 'you stay with me to hide from Ashe, how delectable.'

'Answer my question!'

'You want… so badly…' The squelching of her tongue and saliva makes me cringe. 'To hear your words from these lips? What is that? Bravery, cowardice… or maybe self-love?' She fondles her breast. In vain, I strive to blank out her vile motion. Her filthy paw yanks her nipple to a stand, like a man, tugging at himself. I can only hope this memory vanishes with the dawn.

'Will you stop your game if I choose one?'

'Bargaining? Since when do you _trade_?' She barks the word with contempt. 'Fine, I accept your terms, Avarosan _bride_.'

Her knowledge runs beyond sight. Under my sleeve, I'm wearing Ashe's bracelet, an engagement present from a shared hallucination. After Volibear had entered a mystical trance to help unravel my despair, the holy thunder caused Ashe's claim to physically manifest. Apparently, the storm approves of chaos, and wearable shorthand for my treacherous heart was too much to resist. I couldn't bring myself to remove it.

"Avarosan bride" resounds mockingly through the cavern. As much as I crave to punish that offence, I don't have the will to bite, so I counter with an avalanche to cover my weakness. 'Bravery. I can submerge thoughts, deny them. A spoken word is an action, a scar upon time, a pact.' Each addition echoes above the following as my voice grows quieter. 'So long as you recall it, I am chained within your perception. I can add excuses, explanations, qualifications… nothing I can do will take away from the vision of me that's locked inside your memory.'

She nods. 'A blow to the skull works wonders… but I concede. Flesh remembers when our minds fail.' Our shoulders touch. 'You block your escape, surrender control of your persona… but is that really courage? Enduring is rarely an act of strength and conviction. Often, you just lose then suffer the consequences. Even if you show willing, you may be fooling yourself and inventing a choice when you have none.'

'If you _do_ have the strength, there is always a choice.'

'But you're flagging.' She puts her head on my shoulder. Greasy hair creeps over me, like a swarm of insects. 'I believe your answer. Truly, it may not be courage. It may be a light, shining in darkness.' Her panting is loud and obscene. I feel how it swells her body, leaves then tickles my jaw with tiny drops of lukewarm spit. 'I am Sejuani.'

'And I am thousands.'

Ashe gives up on waking me, her lovingly prepared meal refused with boorish lethargy. She ventures a few bites then throws it aside, unable to rouse her appetite. For a long time, she watches me silently, perhaps wondering if I'm worth the trouble. Her fingers trace my forehead, fringe, eyebrows, nasal bridge and septum. She hesitates above my lips, feeling hot life kiss her knuckles with each quiet snore.

'You came,' she murmurs to the gloom. Our fire is now dead. Her knife, mounted awkwardly in a cell of true ice, remains a dim source of light. 'You really came, despite your bloody-minded refusal to share a country, let alone a bed. I can hardly believe you're real. It sounds crazy but I sometimes forget where my dream ends and you begin.'

I can sympathise with that. She continues.

'Do you know how long I've been obsessed? Ever since we heard reports of a barbarian princess, my head was bursting with our possible adventures, walking side by side through ancient ruins, mountains and forests. I even wrote some of them down!'

Am I curious or mortified? How… detailed are these?

'You know how I talk about uniting the Freljord? I was… I wasn't lying. It's more that… you were part of us already. Together, we could embark on a journey of self-discovery, become each other's hidden truth. Yes, it would be difficult and scary but we'd grow to respect and… like each other… then…'

Ashe glows. I never thought she could look so young.

'Romantic stories were never just for teenage girls. I believe adults need more fantasy… need things that are a bit idealistic and silly. When I heard your name, "Sejuani", oh… I said it aloud a million times! Do you know…?' She leans over my bare cheek. 'How it feels on my lips? Your name is a kiss… my… Sej…' Her pout is a butterfly's wing above my sleeping face. 'Uani.'

Bolting upright, Ashe giggles nervously, patting my back as if praising a dog. I'm a good girl.

'Don't fret. I know you like to feel all proud, untouchable… self-possessed. I won't kiss you again before you kiss me, not when you're so… vulnerable…' Her breath grows ragged. 'You shouldn't have come to me like this. Don't you know what I'm like? Or maybe you _do_ know…'

She quickly shakes off that idea. When a person goes willingly to a spider's lair, do they consent irrevocably to consumption?

'How can I explain? Do you believe in love at first sight? When I meet an attractive woman, all I can think about is…' Her fine, strong hand lingers above the small of my back. 'You remember our first encounter, when you came to refuse my terms? All I could think about was offering my body rather than grain, sucking your harsh tongue all the way down my throat and peeling off your clothes. When you left, I couldn't move. They all thought I was paralysed with disappointment. I wasn't… I was under the spell of your big, sexy bottom. I'd follow that over a cliff. No wonder they made you chieftain!' Her laugh grates with desperate self-loathing. 'Is there any room, any space to fall in love when all you can think about is…?' Her palm drifts lower.

Sejuani plays with the fuzz at the base of my neck. 'She's more honest when you can't answer back with your juvenile critique. You praise her strength because you are scared of her desire… that hungry stare demoting you from a general to a mere woman, a sex object with sensitive, strawberry nipples atop round, welcoming breasts…' her nose brushes my tragus, 'and a moist, aching...'

I hiss. 'Your filth does not impress me! I've heard far worse.'

'You went through that phase, remember? Denying your womanhood, finding ways to "block it up". It was fun, riding through the plains with a piece of bone jammed up there, bulging through your underclothes like a stubby little cock. You felt really good. All those… tiny spasms… like you were morphing into something else… then you found your trainer getting spit-roasted and realised...'

'What are you trying to prove?' The force of my shouting has no visible effect. I can't reclaim any personal space without more contact, wrestling and squeezing and… it makes me sick. 'I also wet the bed and ate soil. A human child is a work in progress. I don't feel any shame for these trials that we must all endure!'

She tuts. 'Forgetting yourself? You mean "conquer", not "endure".'

'These word games tire me.'

'You should keep that in mind when you subject Ashe to your "insight".'

'Heed your own advice and shut up.'

A thick snort of derision blows down my collar. 'As always, you can stop a conversation… but why aren't you stopping _her_?'

My senses are wholly saturated with disgust. I can't see what's going on. 'What do you mean?'

A tug on my hair dispels the fog. 'See for yourself.'

Ashe reaches over my waistband. She watches my sleeping face for any response. Before long, she is kneading and grasping, running a finger up my valley, gauging size, weight, power, softness.

Ants crawl through my stomach. I'm painfully conscious of where my broad thighs rub. While I'm in agony, Sejuani relishes the performance. 'Ooh, she's naughty, groping you there. Can you feel it?' As I'm protesting, Ashe pulls my buttock aside. Air tickles my perineum and I moan with pleasure. 'Yes…'

'Ugh… no, she can't…'

'Why, because it's "wrong"? Our land is free of law, society, convention. Ashe can do whatever she likes… and she likes _you_.' Now that I can feel my body, the sensations multiply. 'The real question is why aren't you stopping her?'

'Because I'm asleep!' Shutting my eyes doesn't help.

'You can wake up any time. Catch her. She's already torn up with guilt. You lay it on, nice and thick, and she will never molest you again.' I can't move. 'Where is your pride? You've risen above the confines of your gender, fashioned an impregnable front. You let it slip once, your hard-earnt reputation is gone forever. You can give orders with the sternest voice but all your men will hear is an Avarosan milkmaid, writhing in ecstasy while common raiders pin her to the ground!'

I'm red with shame and frustration as the flames of arousal intensify. 'Shut up!'

'If you want her so badly then rise, act as a warrior. Claim her!'

'No!'

'Why not?'

'I… I can't!' My ears burn with the sound of my confession. 'You know I've tried! I can't love weakness. I… can't make love to anyone who surrenders to me.'

'Oh, that is a bind. So you must renounce love or renounce yourself, let Ashe violate you.'

The point of no return is approaching. Ashe's fingers are now stroking my tailbone, exposing more as each rotation pushes my britches further down. Her face contorts in a mockery of lust. Every sinful urge is concentrated, used as energy to fuel her self-loathing. I drive words through my paralysis. 'No… I… can't…'

'What? Resist… yield?'

I honestly don't know. 'She's torturing herself.'

'It feels good. _You_ feel good.'

I'm beyond any plausible denial. 'It's not worth… uh!' My lips form an "o" shape as nails glide across my skin. 'Please! Can't you hear them, all the voices telling her that she's a monster? We _have_ to be there to silence them! Otherwise…' Her fallout would be spectacular, perhaps fatal.

'You're asking for my help when you can't help yourself? We despise weakness!'

I grab Sejuani, meeting her face to face. 'And love _her_!'

Time stops. In halting, slow motion, I roll, scaring Ashe into double speed. Her arms backpedal over charcoal remains, powdering her seat with dark residue. Sejuani's critical eyes grow damp. She looks young, far too young, when she cries. No wonder Volibear saw my tears and behaved like a parent. With a simple kiss, a warm, sisterly gesture, she whimpers. 'I do.'

'We _all_ do.'

Sejuani pulls me to her bosom. After such a confession, I expected our roles to be reversed. Within our shared anguish, her breasts are like huge blobs of sweaty clay. So that's why Ashe goes for my hips.

I close my eyes. The dream world slowly disintegrates. I pray that I can resist Ashe again while I'm trapped. Above me, Sejuani rains kisses all over my head. 'You poor thing…' loud sobs punctuate her words. 'Always putting her first, you poor thing…'


	13. Gemini - Chapter 4

**Gemini – Chapter 4**

I wake in pitch blackness. Our makeshift lamp is missing from its perch. In her angst-ridden fugue, Ashe could have stumbled across anything. Our land is cruel to the careless.

Tentatively, I clamber to my knees. A flash of pain reminds me that I won't be standing on two feet. I may have torn cartilage with the sprain. Crawling through the dust, I reach for the wall. There's true ice dotted around this cavern. If I locate one vein…

A jolt runs through my hand. While true ice can disintegrate flesh, I can somehow channel it. Thanks to the placement of the stars on a winter's eve, I was born a mage.

Few people know. Because of Lissandra's corruption of the Frostguard, any magical talent is a barrier to command. Even if our duelling pit swam with the blood of my victims, no one alive would follow me. They'd rather die than become thralls.

After my parents heard of my future dominance, they bribed someone to permanently brand me with arcane shackles, a pattern of scarred flesh upon thickened, irregular bone. Hidden beneath my hair, storm-hewn spirals embellish my scalp. If they weren't evidence of my sorcerous birth, I'd shave my head as they're very striking.

I was never told who kept our secret. With time, I recognised ursine glyphs. However, the trail grew cold. Volibear was an outsider before his ordination. Few people shared gossip with the malcontent, fewer still with the man in charge.

After receiving my legendary flail, I was given a chance to flex my power, stealthily blending ice magic with my weapon's enchantment. I've made progress but I'm still numb, thanks to my brand. It's like boxing when you can't feel your fists. You can swing forever but your progress crawls without feedback, and your knuckles may become chalk.

I siphon magic into the vein, guiding a river that wends through the rock. Azure lights flicker, primeval teardrops glisten. A swarm of tiny growths pepper the ceiling, while dense colonies glower from opposite walls. Finally, two blossoms, frozen apart in a circular dance, divide armies like warring roses.

It feels like I'm outside, watching fireflies congregate above torches, beneath a clear sky with twin moons.

All around is endless motion. Beside other materials, with their trembling atoms, true ice dwells in a perfect, unique stasis, throwing invisible forces into sharp relief. I can feel the waves of light crashing one after another, though my human eyes are too slow to parse the million separate images.

Ashe's cave is wholly revealed. I'm surprised at how warm it is without a fire. The stream bubbles with geothermic energy. Fascinating, I wasn't aware of any potential volcanoes. Our maps will need updating.

How much of the Freljord has the prodigal Ashe walked? I can't understand why such an explorer tolerates and encourages Avarosan decadence.

I crawl to my blanket, with only my broken body, traitorous heart and empty soul for company. Moments like these are supposedly valuable, chances to consider my feelings and actions.

I've never been consciously reflective, yet I struggle to lose myself. The disconnection affords me prescience in battle. A cool mind helps to form tactical manoeuvres. When confronted with personal demons, I'm a slave to the past. Unbidden thoughts and memories devour the present. I lose control of the future, dressing old wounds while fresh blood is pooling at my feet.

Of course, without my soul, there is no future.

Someone approaches with Ashe's recognisable rhythm. A question mark interrupts her flow. My new lights peep through the bony curtain. Silence drags on and on while she waits for clues of a trap. Eventually, I speak. 'Ashe, the lights are my doing. You're safe to come in.'

She bounds through the clattersome drapes like a hairless monkey, landing on all-fours. Her back is laden with grisly remains, held in place with an excess of rope. She carries a dripping, ominous cloth sack and her knife, while her bow snaps diagonally across her torso from shoulder to hip. While she disentangles her load, Ashe's mouth opens in wonder. The low hood obscures her eyes. 'What the… Sejuani, how…? Ugh!' With an audible thwack, the bowstring whips her face by mistake.

When I pad over to help, she cowers, roaming hands close to her chest. I refuse to bear this awkwardness. 'You must know I felt you groping me.'

Like a rodent, she lifts her paws to her mouth. 'I'm sorry!'

'Don't be.' Her nose jerks up at my response. 'I'm not upset. I may be upset if you dwell on it.'

'Why must you excuse every horrible thing I do? Can't you punch me for once?'

'Why should I? You've expressed your interest and I chose to sleep in your care.'

'You weren't receptive when I found you lying outside.'

'I felt vulnerable then… I…' can hardly say that I watched her dangling over the metaphorical abyss from an astral projection. 'I've improved enough that I can take it, so you're hurting yourself more than me.'

'Your boundaries depend on our current strength? I don't agree.'

'But of course they do. Boundaries are nothing without enforcement, and intrusion is nothing without consequence.'

'I dread to imagine your tribe's courtship rites.'

I recognise her anger. She thinks me a traitor to the female drudges toiling under my rule, as if any solidarity comes from an accident of birth. 'The Winter's Claw do not have "courtship rites". You are free to sing a ballad, offer trinkets or dedicate victories. You may seize your beloved, earn acceptance with the blaze of your passion…'

'And if she refuses?'

'You are free to persist… while she is free to respond with violence, humiliation or death. We train everyone to kill, so no woman is defenceless.'

'What if you become helpless through no fault of your own?' Ashe indicates my leg. It's a bad example. That's definitely my fault. She's labouring to draw lines between her points and my situation.

'I might ask you the same question. Your petty laws are nothing without an eye watching every house, and a patrol on every doorstep.'

'We're not animals. Fear of punishment is one safeguard, yes, but we also have respect.'

'As do we.'

'Say that again to my people!' Ashe waves her knife. 'Do you know how many children your barbarians have forced upon our women?'

I gratefully receive her antagonism. However wrong she might be, conviction will serve her better than self-doubt. I want more from her. 'Should your _growers _prefer to be weak and oppose me, they deserve their chosen role. Your troops kill just as eagerly. They don't replace _our_ dead with new seed.'

'If you consider that a gift, you should open your legs to your people and spare mine!'

'Why should I, when I'm better placed on the battlefield? I am a _warrior_. The "barbarians" you decry give me the respect I have _earnt_. I can have more of an impact without a child weighing me down.'

Her aggression dissipates. Leaning back, she removes her cowl. 'It's funny.' She's not laughing or smiling. 'You've been… so quiet. We began to wonder if, because of your injuries, you were found a new purpose… replacing a… broken Sejuani with a new Sejuani.'

'You thought I was…?'

'Pregnant.' Ashe looks away. She's worried that she's touched a nerve. 'Well… Anivia, Braum and Gragas did… only Tryndamere wasn't convinced.'

I'm stunned. Have our claws been so blunt? I would have achieved more through… motherhood. Our maps would be no different, and I'd… have a child. Every time I consider the possibility, my brain stalls. 'What about you?'

'I…' she blurts out, 'a part of me hoped it was true.' Betrayal hits me like a frozen club. How could she _want_ me to begin a family without her? Could anyone hate themselves that much or did I… presume the depths of her love? She continues. 'Perhaps if you… had a son or a daughter, you'd think twice before killing ours.'

'It doesn't work,' I say quietly. 'My fiercest raiders are parents many times over.' The berserk Olaf has more children than he can rightly count. He remembers names. He just has a blind spot for numbers. The once-calm Volibear is unhappily childless but ever since I fell, crying into his arms, paternal rage has clouded his judgement. Would it make a difference whether I magically fathered or birthed a child? How would I change? 'Perhaps I should have been… repurposed.'

'You don't want that…'

'Who cares if it's what I _deserve_?'

Ashe glares. 'Do you know what I've come to really hate about you, Sejuani?'

'Go on.'

'You accept imaginary pain to justify hurting others. If you were forced to bear a stranger's child, you wouldn't accept it. You would swear bloody vengeance upon this whole world.'

'Would _you_?'

'I…' She hesitates. 'Well, yes, but I'd have to make sure the babe was all right and…'

'Exactly. You can think beyond yourself. So can I.'

'The problem is, you think beyond everyone. People say there's nothing in your heart, a void in your soul.' Rumours are true for once. 'I've… stupidly convinced myself that you have beauty inside and you run away from it. Even saying it like that I… believe.' Looking around the cave, she murmurs in wonder. 'These lights.'

'An accident of nature. Those are true ice deposits. I can… charge them.'

Ashe blinks. 'You can…what? I never suspected _you_ were conjuring all that frost. I thought it was your weapon!'

'Half and half.'

'You're a mage?'

'Sort of… well… yes. My talent was inhibited when I was a girl to prepare me for leadership.'

'How cruel.' Ashe mourns a forsaken past, full of beautiful patterns like she's viewing now. 'You could have become…'

'Another Lissandra?'

'They limited your potential! How can you accept your constraints while deploring mine?'

'You don't appreciate how magic enslaves people,' I say. 'Despite all the controversy about shadows, forbidden tomes and necromancy, the most volatile mages are elementalists, Brand, Lissandra, Vladimir…'

'Volibear?' She's trying to blindside me on a subject she knows nothing about. Of course, the whole universe demands her interference, capable or not.

'He's a priest. Look, Ashe, I can still use magic. I just can't feel it. I'm spared its control. You know how to lip-read?' She nods. 'If you speak a language but lose your hearing, you can still follow a conversation.'

'Do you know if it's reversible?'

'I've more important things to consider.'

She grimaces at my nonchalance. 'The world's missing out. You're an artist.'

'I feel the same regarding your prowess in war.'

'My talent is a greater curse than your magic.' She roughly disentangles her load. 'You can provide a romantic welcome. The only thing I can give you… is death.' Two white foxes hit the ground. One has a clean puncture wound above its jugular. The second animal was pinned through the belly then finished with a second smile beneath its jaw.

'They're very fat. Well spotted.'

'One of their cubs went exploring on his own, gave away their location. I killed both parents. They had three more cubs, hardly worth the pelts. I… couldn't watch them starve. I took six lives to preserve my own, a whole family.'

I don't understand how an experienced ranger like Ashe holds on to remorse. You can respect your game, yes, but weeping every time is empty masochism. Your tears don't spare lives. 'They also lived off creatures that made wrong turns. Your pity is unwarranted.'

'You think we're the same… as animals?'

'We're all the same to the Freljord. Human… fox… boar… the only real tribes are the quick and the dead. I have more time for _Bristle_ than I do for snivelling fools.'

A primal twitch warps her face. However civilised she may be, the wilderness creeps, little by little. She must have been here a long time. Could any of us deal with Ashe, unchained? 'You sound like _her_, bonding with animals.'

There's only one kind of relation who provokes that emphasis. 'Are you talking about your ex-lover?'

'Yes, but you _can't_ sound like her. She brought out the worst in me.'

Jealousy catches like phlegm. I can deal with people knowing Ashe carnally, but the thought of them rousing uncharted depths really stings. 'How?'

'So many reasons… but you're safe, because you're _not_ like her.' Those words feel more like a plea than a statement. Ashe's arm coils back. '_She_ cares for the dead, while you'd have no trouble with _this_.' Launching her sack with the force of a ballista, she knocks the wind out of me. The load is heavy, hot and wet. Recovering, I steel my resolve and untie the string with slow, careful movements.

I peer into the darkness… and touch noses with the severed head of a polar bear.

My scream is hard enough to rip all the veins out of my bruised and weary heart. All the little fragments of my composure rain like sand across my lungs.

I can see the bone structure isn't ursine. I've spent enough time with them to recognise the broad, expressive mouth and high brow. Despite our pretence, we are creatures of instinct. Fear gallops where truth walks, and I was confronted with the spectre of a dead Volibear.

The kill is fresh and disgusting. One eye is a bloody mess. A ragged flap of neck sways like the hem of a skirt. Ashe's grip was clearly shaking when she claimed her prize. The creature was probably majestic in life but now its anger seems comical, pathetic. Our hunters prefer the claws.

While I'm shaking with emotion, Ashe looks utterly spent. 'How do you cope?' she whispers. 'You're this paragon of cruelty, laden with self-denial, mercy, devotion, forgiveness… qualities that all of my kin profess, but seldom attain. I've watched so many false tears well at our gatherings, while yours fall unbidden. You scorn us with your cold, ugly sermons, while expressing warmth. How do you _cope_?'

I scour my cheek raw. Does biology never tire of betrayal? 'Everyone struggles to master themselves and live by their creed. Why should _I_ break when others endure?'

'Because you're denying your humanity!'

'You deny ours!' My temper frays. I'm reeling from her stunt with the polar bear's head. 'You go on like I'm some lost orphan, running with wolves, and all I need is rescue by a "proper" family. No! The Winter's Claw are _people_, good people! We mourn our losses, fall in love, raise our children. What we don't tell them is how they should _act_. We do not revere strength because we lack intelligence or instruction. We know that a powerful chieftain benefits everyone, while a performer who can show the right emotion at the right time only benefits!'

'If your tribe are so tolerant of "wrong" emotions, why do you suppress them?'

'I don't! You know, all too well, how to separate feelings and principles. Just look at your marriage!' A very sore point. How does Runeterra make such a political game of intimate relationships? 'I can oppose your nation while admiring your person. I can lead a charge while emptying my bowels in fear. Why do conflicting impulses have to be such a problem?'

Ashe looks into space. 'I… know from experience that you can't live as two people,' she says. 'You can try but… eventually, you will crack.'

'Everyone contains multitudes. We can't resolve them all. Conflict is inevitable… within and without.'

'I'm sick of battles.'

'Then you should aim to win, rather than suffer well.'

Ashe weighs my response like a new blade. 'Against whom? Self-doubt… or you?'

'Both.'

'You don't want that.' She muses. 'You'd sooner die.'

'Perhaps, but if you keep worrying about what I want, you'll never know peace. It will have to come at my expense, whether you like it or not.'

'I see.' Her loaded stare bores into me. I recall my teenage experience, claiming a woman as my prize after a long hunt. I couldn't even bring myself to undress fully, let alone come. I felt so miserable that I never had sex again. To this day, I've not shared an orgasm with anyone but myself. Ashe finally speaks. 'I'm going to have a bath then take a nap. You have two chances to make your decision.'

'Are you asking me to sleep with you?'

She laughs. 'No… no, that door's been wide open from the start.' Her smile fades.

'Then…'

'You've made it enough times already.' She begins taking off her clothes. I turn out of respect, earning a harsh reply. 'This is for your benefit as well. If you won't fuck me, the least you can do is look.' I force myself to comply, meeting Ashe's gaze while she pulls down her britches. When she notices I'm avoiding her figure, she halts her movements. 'Are you shy? Do The Winter's Claw have any time or place for modesty?'

'Well… not really.' The truth is complex, and I have issues apart from convention. I can't explain while confronted with Ashe's bare thighs.

'Then what's wrong?'

'You deserve more than to be viewed like an object.'

'I would like to be viewed as a _woman_.' She bears down upon me, her groin, a mere tongue's length away. My pulse rocks through my skull. I crave to gorge on her essence, inhale so deeply that all else vanishes. 'Can't you see my flaws… my dimples, dry skin, ugly stretch marks? I haven't shaved my legs for a month. You could scour pots with them. I reek from wearing one set of clothes… all the bile and blood from countless kills, absorbed into my flesh. Am I still a goddess?'

Luckily, my tired eyes filter those wonderfully human details through a glossy haze. 'Always. Even if you kneel to serve a terrible cause, you will always be a goddess.'

'Perhaps I feel the same about you… giving praise at the feet of a dirty, vicious whore that opposes your way of life. You can do better.' Something falls over my head. One cup of Ashe's bra fits like a mask. In soft, woven darkness, faintly damp and stiff from wear, I listen to her voice. 'Perhaps I hate you? Does it even occur to you that I have feelings, while you love my cruel deeds from afar? _Should_ I hate you?'

'If that's what I deserve.' I fold her bra in my hands, and see her dip into the stream. Her slender, winnowed legs, built for precision rather than strength, end in a dramatic arch, full, high and feminine. Her smooth delicate waist appears even smaller beneath her wide breasts. They are proud with colour, an expanse of creamy tones with large, dark areolas. Her arms and shoulders are a temple of raw strength, the base of a triangle driving into the ground. She naturally has the shape I wanted as a child.

Ashe rests her arms over the bank, watching me. 'I'm defenceless.' Her fingers tense into claws. 'I've taken advantage of people… sexually, politically… do you suppose Tryndamere granted legitimacy to my rule because he shared my vision or because he'd lost his tribe? Do you think young, innocent girls, despairing for the warm touch of a woman, can refuse the cold embrace of Queen Ashe?'

'You are never defenceless.'

'And you are so _very_ wrong.' Ashe rests her cheek on folded arms. 'I've been exposed in… just about every way you can think.'

'And you're alive.'

'Is that really my doing… or yours?' With a deep, theatrical sigh of contentment, she closes her eyes as if going to sleep. 'I left you my knife.'

The strange, long-handled weapon lies before me. 'Good, if someone attacks, they will face my wrath.'

'You shouldn't wait. If you know someone's dangerous, you should kill them before they kill you.'

'I can defend myself.'

'I hope so… I really do.'

We don't speak until Ashe rises from the stream, her blonde hair, dark and heavy. She gathers all of the kindling and animal carcasses into one massive pyre. The blaze is overwhelming, far too strong for the small cavern. I ask, 'what are you doing?'

'I should wash and wax my clothes before they split. If I don't run a fire, they'll take forever to dry.'

'But…' something's not right, '_all_ of your supplies?'

'I can get more.'

Soon, I grow dizzy. Writhing in discomfort, I'm forced to remove layers before I pass out. Ashe dumbly potters about, ignoring me. There's active aggression in her silence, like she's made a conscious decision to block out my suffering. I'm down to my long underwear. Perspiration drenches my forehead. I can feel every place where skin rubs on skin, between my fingers, my armpits, my buttocks. The heat aggravates my sprain. I barely notice the passage of time. Uneasy thoughts blur as the cave shimmers. I journey though skies under rock, and as I finally come to land, Ashe dozes by the fire, still naked. I see every notch in her spine, a dozen ways to conquer the Freljord. One deep thrust and it's all over.

The sublime landscape of her torso rises… then falls… rises… then…


	14. Gemini - Chapter 5

**Gemini – Chapter 5**

Sleep... unconsciousness? A primal fear stalks the gloomy dungeons within. I locked it away, not of out cowardice. There was no choice. It was a battle I couldn't win.

A seal has broken. I am hunted, and my flagging, helpless mind sought oblivion because there was no escape… to another world, another self.

* * *

I awake.

Somewhere in darkness, I hear a slow, chalky scraping… over and over… like a headsman sharpening an axe. I turn as quietly as possible. The fire is now dust. Above me, the true ice deposits no longer shine with stellar beauty. They resemble vermin, a plague of eyes, greedily watching a corpse. The air has cooled, yet I am lacquered with sweat.

Ashe crouches, undressed, worrying the ground with our only source of illumination. Her magical knife draws angular patterns into the ground, while her fair skin purely mirrors their blue radiance, like a pool under moonlight. She looks in my direction. Even now, her brilliant eyes refuse to blend with their surroundings. The pale colours of enchantment form a weak imitation of her natural glory. She looks apprehensive, yet resolved.

'You're awake,' she says. Even if Ashe prowls like a savage beast, a wilful shard of human expression remains jammed in her core. Self-knowledge haunts pleasure and pain. I can't read her mind, of course, but I've faced her in battle enough times. Her strategy cries louder than words.

'Yes… why are you still naked?'

'Animals don't wear clothes.' With an exaggerated swing of her bottom, she pads over to me. 'We're the same, yes?'

'Animals don't lay down their weapons or armour.'

'We shed our coats in summer. Why keep anything with no purpose?' Like a mountain lion, Ashe prowls in a slowly decreasing circle, offering a full view of her body. There are few sights more hypnotic than her liquid muscles flowing around her back and arms. 'After all, you're no threat. You've had your chance.'

'Aren't you cold?'

'I'm… _burning_.' Ashe's gaze wanders over my breasts. I pray my nipples don't respond as one skimpy layer preserves my dignity. Her nose and brow crease like a snarling wolf. 'You have one chance to release me... say it.'

'I… Say what?'

'Say… that I am _evil_.'

'Why?'

'You need a reason? _You_ launched your crusade against _me_!' Before I can reply, she barks an example. 'Try this. I didn't kill that polar bear in self-defence. I didn't kill it for sustenance or profit. I killed it for one reason… to cause you pain. He was magnificent, a paragon of his kind, a symbol of the Freljord… and I brutally murdered him so I could punish you for caring. I gave him a death that was beyond meaningless, a death not even _you_ could justify!' She growls through her molars. 'Tell me… tell me that I am evil.'

I murmur. 'Good and evil are false notions held by the weak.'

'Heaven, preserve me! Don't be so trite! Others can play the games you can. Your idea of strength is every bit as malleable.' Ashe draws near, manic eyes reflecting the void. 'We all have experience of injustice, cruelty and selfishness. Those experiences may vary but we share one word across nations for people who further them. I ask you again. Say that I am evil.'

How can she hate herself this much? Ashe is worth more than her jealous, fearful entourage. They preach to the skies that her great will is a burden, a destructive energy to be hidden from view, harnessed only to conserve endless decay. There has to be one determined voice offering praise. I will never clip her wings. However dangerous, I must accept her wrath. 'I don't think you're evil.'

Ashe whimpers. 'Okay.' Breath accelerates, rising in pitch. Hers or mine, we cannot say. 'Then receive the darkness you would embrace. Avarosa, punish me for what I have become!'

Her knife sprays blood as it leaps from calf to jugular. My yell comes to a sudden halt. Any wrong turn or swell of my neck will be the last. Eager nips of my flesh urge me down. Ashe grabs a fistful of my hair to further expose my throat as her knees drive into my lap. All the pride I have left reinforces my core to preserve that one precious inch between my shoulders and the ground. She notices my reluctance and, with a harsh grunt, slams her palm into my breastbone, finally doing the impossible.

The Winter's Wrath, the scourge of the Freljord, was put on her back.

Ashe licks my skin with her blade, heaving a ragged sigh with each long stroke as if pleasuring herself. One side of her countenance gawps with terror, lust and righteous fury. The other side lurks beneath the long shadow of her natural parting. Her steel gathers my dread up and over my jaw, smearing it across my cheek.

I feel hesitation, a weakness in her grip. Underneath her satyric rapture, hides a germ of doubt. I know close combat, one circular motion, a crack on her sensitive radial bone with the edge of my hand is all I need. With Ashe disarmed, I have the size advantage. Even though I can't walk, stand or throw a meaningful punch, I could wrestle her down with my sheer bulk. I perceive counters, holds, reversals that I could use with no personal risk. It's child play… but a thousand reflexes, honed through countless brawls, are deathly still.

The weight of Ashe's desire pins me down. I'm scared. All the world is my domain, to shape as I choose, while my body remains a foreign land. Helplessly, I could only watch my perennial cage grow soft and welcoming, even as I dug a moat, wide as the broadest ocean. However, the darkest lagoon surrenders an icy bridge to a frozen tread. Ashe's tactical brilliance and ruthless drive are as cold as the blue steel kisses upon my nose.

For one precious moment, I hold onto my virtue, shaking arms held aloft in defiance. They flop, either side of my blushing ears, palms facing upwards.

My gates open.

Ashe reads my submission and lowers the tip of her knife to my lips, gently prising them apart. I shiver as the weapon taps on my teeth. Quick as an Avarosan whore, my drawbridge lowers. I carefully wrap my tongue around the flat of the blade as the cool, smooth weapon glides into my throat. Ashe goes deeper until only the thick, circular handle protrudes from my suggestively puckered face. I pray the subtle curve does not scrape on my walls or trigger my gag reflex.

With a slow, sensual rhythm, Ashe moves the blade, in and out. Amidst all the terror, the feeling of that impeccable surface wetly massaging and stimulating my supple, sensitive muscle grows revoltingly pleasant. My fingers and toes curl. Ashe's keen eyes notice immediately. 'How does it feel, Sejuani, to be fucked in the mouth against your will? Could you face your tribe, your loved ones, after writhing in pleasure beneath someone you despise? Do you really deserve such humiliation, even if I am stronger? Does anyone?' Ashe grips my chin between her thumb and forefinger. 'Bite,' she commands. I clench my teeth and Ashe lets go of the handle. The blade angles towards my palate. However, the tip falls short, a final mercy before the pain escalates.

Ashe grabs my neckline with her strong archer's hands. The hem yields to her fangs and I feel hot saliva mix with cool air on my collarbone. She rips a straight line to my navel then buries her face in my belly, kissing and licking all those thick, useless folds that conceal my tough abdominals. I squeal in protest while she lavishes praise on ugly parts of my body. So many times, I had yearned for a medusa's gaze. If I were a statue, perhaps a mason would sculpt away my failure.

While Ashe's attention is caught, I have a slim chance to remove the blade. As I begin to formulate a plan, Ashe reaches for my bosom. I twitch and hyperventilate as her fingers trail the rise of my breasts, reverently parting the torn curtains of my vest. When she finally exposes my nipples, I think I die for a whole second. Ashe gapes in wonder, panting as though merely watching me is akin to a thousand holy sisters worshiping her sex. 'Oh Sejuani, you're perfect… so full and strong and feminine! I can't believe there aren't legends of your beauty… songs and paintings and… the world is blind! If I were a man, I'd make you pregnant a thousand times over and repopulate the world in your image!'

I vehemently shake my head, emitting a drone like a buzzing fly, to drown out her words. That is _my_ dream! I always wanted to give _her_ children. Even if it's impossible, please don't take that away from me… please…

Ashe draws an effleurage above my womb, as if conjuring some dark magic to fertilise me, then returns upwards. Her fingers trace my sternum, circle the top of my ribcage then form soft claws, her nails close up the rise of each breast, finally pinching my hard nipples. I have to scream but I can't. Ashe's deadly gag reduces my knotty sexual pain to simply that of a beaten dog, a feral mixture of snorts, growls and whines. I point my toes until my feet cramp. Ashe involves her tongue, exploring and lapping. For a moment, she appears to forget herself, closing her eyes and sucking with utter relaxation. Our gazes meet and something tender, some unspoken regret, passes… then her brow hardens with cruelty.

She quickly discovers that I respond more to ruthless tickling and scratching underneath and alongside my breasts rather than direct attention. I'm grateful that I can't verbalise my surrender with pleas to work my groin. It feels like I'm on the verge of wetting myself, or that my nipples are going to leak. As the pressure grows, I divert all remaining control to my pelvis, letting my head thrash, drool and warp in grotesque arousal. The shame of relinquishing my private bodily functions to another person would kill me for good.

Ashe drives me to the point of no return. I feel no crescendo, cadence or catharsis… only the brief spasms of painful orgasm about as fulfilling as a light sneeze. My form has utterly betrayed me. I claimed no satisfaction, didn't so much as clench a muscle to hurry my peak. All agency was denied. A true fighter's body would have responded with violence, apathy or taken over the situation to control the flow of pleasure. No... I submitted. I suffered and then... with the completion of my wretched biological destiny... I came.

There's no going back. Whenever I shout orders, the truth will shine through my words. I am no leader of men, a brother stallion above their desire, outperforming them in every role. I am just another woman who gets off on being pinned down and fucked like a sack of meat. Rolling onto my side, Ashe's dagger slithers to the ground. Shorn of its glow, the blade is tiny, far out of proportion to its large handle. I was brought low by cutlery. The humiliation is too much. I begin to cry.

'Sejuani?' My face contorts, growing red and infantile as tears flood my banks. Disgraceful bawling echoes through the cavern. It may be a respite, hearing it from without, rather than inside, my head. 'Se… Sejuani?' Curling up into a foetal position, I turn away from Ashe. 'No… please don't cry! You're strong, remember? You've fallen so many times but you keep on fighting!' Her words reach my ears but have no effect, empty sounds with no physical power to change the world. 'You haven't lost! All I did was take advantage. There's no meaning. You can still hold your head up high!' She tugs at my shoulder but all she can do is push my gaze further downwards. 'Remember when I took you prisoner and you wouldn't give us an inch of satisfaction? You didn't care that we'd entrapped you. We were still "Avarosan scum" and you kept your dignity!' She drapes her warm weight across my side. 'Nothing's changed. I'm still worthless and you're still… pure… my beautiful, pure Sejuani… whom I…' she judders. 'What have I done? Sweet Avarosa, what have I done?' Ashe crawls away. Beneath my wailing, I hear choking sobs from her direction. 'I'm a monster… even Lissandra would have the kindness to end your life rather than _destroy_ you. These bloody paws are a curse upon the living. I was right all along. My people deserve better. Everyone does...'

A chill disturbs my grief. There's more than self-disgust in Ashe's tone. I feel something… rational, a destination.

Just why had she come here?

With that one question providing focus, I power through the mists of agony… to see Ashe plunging the knife into her gut. From broken springs, I launch myself into her, sending us both to the ground. I pin her beneath my weight, seize her arm and block her lethal cut with my thigh. Her grip is determined. I lack the raw strength to pry her fingers back so I use the deadliest move I know.

I kiss her.

She goes stiff as a corpse then relaxes while I manipulate her with slow, delicate motions. I don't involve my tongue. I suck her lip and let go… again and again… as though beckoning her soul from the depths. When I feel the tension leave her wrist, I quickly change focus and pull the blade free, hurling it across the room. It's bad form to yank an impaled object away, sometimes it's the only thing preserving a victim's life, but I can't risk Ashe renewing her suicide attempt. Luckily, her satchel is within arm's reach. I can pull it close while keeping her restrained.

Ashe croaks. 'Please… no…'

I'd rather not indulge her objections but I have to keep her engaged. If she passes out, she may not wake up. 'You've caused me enough anguish for one lifetime.' I dig through the satchel. 'Your scouts have been very generous with these packs. I know the contents well.'

'Agh… I… can't raise everyone to my standard,' Ashe manages through clenched teeth. 'At least I now have a way to send you gifts.'

I peck her on the lips, a reward for an implied future. 'Changed your mind about killing yourself?'

'I thought I'd… lost you.'

Even if my candour proves rash, I'm too sore to let her down easily. 'You probably have… in a way. The old Sejuani may be gone forever.'

'I'll miss her.'

The sorrow is contagious. 'We'll… mourn her passing once I've prevented yours.' The wound in Ashe's belly hangs open. It must be six inches long. Evidently, she'd overcome her initial trauma. 'Disembowelment's a poor way to go, painful and unreliable.'

'Is this a good time to be giving advice?' Ashe makes a very good point. However, I'm bad at small-talk, and I'm desperate enough to keep her with me that I'm brainlessly parroting what I can see.

'Blame Olaf. He knows far too much about ritual suicide, has an unwelcome story for every banquet.' I nearly shout in relief when I find a small vial containing a green, pungent liquid. We've no idea where it comes from but it's a very powerful adhesive. One of my raiders reattached a severed finger that works to this day. Shedding the remains of my top, I fearlessly bare my torso. 'This is going to hurt. You might want to bite down on something.' I stuff the fabric into her mouth. 'Consider this payback.'

Ashe squeals like a pig and thrashes wildly as the glue seeps. I've seen hardened warriors reduced to gibbering wrecks by it. Skin pops and blisters while the salve melds the bloody gorge into a fleshy bridge. Enough battles decorate Ashe's form. Another scar will make no difference. While she recovers, I use the satchel to raise her legs and fetch her blanket. With the blood loss, there's every possibility she'll go into shock. I wrap us together, my lips on her temple. When she tries to speak, her voice is a drawling stream of quiet vowels. 'I'm sorry. You shouldn't be looking after me.'

I kiss her again. 'Hush… rest for now. We'll talk later.'

Sniffing like a child, she begs. 'You promise we'll talk… not fight?'

'Yes.'

'That's… all I ever wanted.' Ashe closes her eyes. I know from experience that her salve knocks you out. Often, it's a hammer blow to your nerves, a white flash before you wake, hours later. I'm strangely proud she held on for those few seconds, my strong, wilful Ashe.


	15. Gemini - Chapter 6

**Gemini – Chapter 6**

_I dreamt of another world, a life shared. After I kissed Ashe within her cell, before I gave my soul to Kalista, my subconscious wrote another script, where bloody violence became tense harmony. All dreams had gone with the black spear but, through either Ashe's proximity, or my stress, our curious refuge has returned._

_Outlandish conveniences, new to waking eyes but familiar now, decorate our flat. I sit on a firm bed, _our_ bed, watching the walls. Our relationship was at a crossroads. We wanted a family but argued about the details. Ashe wanted one of us to give up work for the child. Until recently, there was no question of my staying home but Ashe earnt a promotion, which levelled our salaries. My unsociable job with mountain rescue had always been a point of contention, while Ashe worked office hours for an academy. Now my only counter was a lack of parental warmth. I could rightly be selfish but it would cast a long shadow across our impending marriage._

_Something had to break._

_Our front door scrapes. I'd promised to fix that when I got home this morning. Ashe calls, 'Honey-bear?' with rising concern. She knows I don't ignore my responsibilities. Her footsteps roam softly. No matter how much I protest, Ashe claims that I wake up easily when I'm on nights, that I growl whenever she moves. I think she's projecting her frustration._

_She peers into the bedroom. Throughout her approach, an awful haze obscures her loveliness but I know the falling lines of her sorrow too well. She coos, 'Oh, Sej… come on, babe.' Slipping her bag to the floor, she kneels to catch my gaze. 'You don't even want to see _me_?' She toys with her blouse. 'I'm wearing your favourite.'_

_Her efforts make me smile. '_You're_ my favourite.'_

_'Aw…' she touches my knee. 'Does that mean you'll show me… your sexy little secret?' I hear desperation behind her sweet nothings. 'Please…?'_

_I know I'm being silly. We've seen each other at our worst, in petulance and sickness. I've watched her pluck hair from parts of her body that I'm forbidden to say. Closing my flawed eyes in shame, I finger the wires of cold, ugly metal. The worst part is where the pads tickle my nose. Apparently, my nerves will ignore the pressure, given time. Before that horrible change occurs, I perform stupid rituals, blinking over the basin, rubbing my sockets until my knuckles bleed, in case the wing of a dead fly comes loose or my stiff lenses grow pliant._

_Viewing Ashe up close, with new clarity, might be a tender mercy but I'd rather she didn't see me like this, however kindly she brushes my fringe. 'You're so gorgeous.'_

_'I think _you_ need glasses.' Capturing her pretty hand, I kiss her engagement ring. 'It's not fair. You deserve a strong woman to look out for you, and I'm falling apart.'_

_'You're not falling apart.' Ashe hugs me. 'You're still my tough, reliable Sej and you can do all the same difficult jobs. Only now you can accessorise!' _

_'Me?' I laugh. 'The dyke with twenty pairs of black socks?' It was Ashe who chose the frames, giddily poring over the catalogue. I still hope to use contacts but I've had painful reactions to every type. We still don't know if the solution or material is causing it._

_'Well…' Ashe fiddles with my collar. '_I_ can accessorise.'_

_'Your living doll.' She pauses, uncertain whether my comment was a gesture of devotion or disquiet. 'I know you love me but... you can drive, and you earn as much money as I do without having to pull shifts.' Happy memories of Ashe's wild youth cause me to chuckle. 'I'm proud, you know? I remember when you couldn't even boil a kettle without starting a fire.'_

_'That was my landlord's fault! You said!'_

_'I know, kitten, but the point is, you only need me to play house, and I hardly brighten the place up.'_

_'Well, if you stopped wearing black and…'_

_'Wore nothing?' One of Ashe's little kinks involves me "surprising" her with nudity. One example is answering the door, wearing nothing but a tool-belt, like I'm a stranger trying to plumb her sink without "getting my kit wet". I'm terrible at role-playing, and she's not much better at scripting. 'I'd make your guests even more uncomfortable.'_

_'_Our_ guests. My friends do like you, believe it or not.'_

_'Well, of course they do, showing off their "tolerance". I prefer the cavemen I work with.'_

_'Is that Udyr still going on about "carpet-burn"?'_

_'Yeah, and it makes as much sense now as it did then.' I'm grateful the mood's lightened. Ever since we were children, Ashe bore a strange weightless quality that raised me above my dull, dreary council estate of grey skies and woodchip. She really was my first love. I can even trace my sexual development all the way back to her prepubescent reflex of playing with her nipples. It embarrassed her parents, and mine, when I defended her actions with unsightly passion. 'You know, I've been planning this talk for days and you blow me off course immediately.' She goes blank with terror. 'Don't worry. I'm not breaking off our engagement or becoming a man.'_

_Ashe falls in to my lap and fiercely presses my hand above her heart. 'I would stay with you!' she blurts._

_'Ashe…'_

_'I always thought you'd be happier as a man! If you ever transitioned, I would help you every step of the way.'_

_My whole being flutters. I think I'd been waiting my whole life to hear someone say that. Hearing it from a lover is overwhelming. 'Even if you had to give up my...?' _

_She grins. 'Yep, every morning, I'd bind your breasts, do up your tie and suck your cock.'_

_'Since when have I worn a tie?' Kissing her greedy lips, I fearfully picture the tooth marks adorning her toys. I'm not sure if I'd trust her with the real thing. 'No, sorry to disappoint you but I've crossed that bridge a few times and… I'm okay.' She hops onto the mattress to give me space. 'Perhaps I'll never truly settle but who does?'_

_'The cosmetics industry would vanish into thin air.' She mimes the disappearance like a stage performer. 'Gyms would shut down.'_

_I scowl. 'Please, I have to rescue enough cyclists and fell-runners who don't respect nature. Lock them all up in a big, sweaty box where they can't bother me.' Collapsing over my knees, I breathe the liberation of disclosure. 'We all change, not always for the good. It's nice to know that you'd follow me down a rabbit hole or through a looking glass.'_

_'Call me old-fashioned but I wouldn't have proposed otherwise.'_

_'I'm a lucky girl.' I play with my bracelet, or "manacle" as Ashe calls it, her lovingly hand-crafted substitute for a ring. I'm often jealous of myself, netting a "master jeweller". The college gave her the title in brochures, to her embarrassment. 'Funny thing is… my next words might sound ungrateful, considering your offer.' _

_'Take your time.'_

_'Thinking about our relationship, I've realised one very important thing. I'm not happy if I'm just a companion. I have to be useful. Most of our lives, I've been your fitter, provider, chauffeur, but you can do all of those jobs yourself… and better.'_

_'That's a bit of a stretch.'_

_'You have fewer points on your driver's licence, you earn more per hour, and last weekend you replaced a belt on the washing machine.'_

_Ashe counts off the replies on her fingers. 'You've driven twenty times as far, society undervalues your contribution, and you would have replaced the belt in half the time.'_

_'Even if I run faster, your path is now quicker, and I'm _not_ holding you back.' Sliding off the bed, I go down on bended knee. My valiant Ashe proposed like this, and I was ecstatic and ashamed. How could I be so remiss? The privilege of acceptance was rightly hers, not mine. 'Let me bear your children.'_

_Her jaw drops in disbelief. She covers her mouth as convulsions drive loud moans, like she's the one going into labour. 'No… S… Sej… you can't…' She's refusing me? 'You can't…'_

_'Ashe?'_

_'You can't make me this happy when you'll be stuck at home feeling miserable. I want us both...'_

_'There's no third way! No magic bullet… and I refuse to waste my life pleasing myself when I could raise your family!' Clutching her wrist, I lay kisses between words. 'Even if I did struggle, you'd be there for me as you are now… putting up with your sulky bear… that lumbering oaf who snarls at your friends, goes to sleep on dates, whines about having to wear glasses… and only puts out when you beg.'_

_She cracks a broad smile, her teeth bright within her glowing skin. 'Of course! All of those things are what make you charming.' she dabs at her running mascara. 'Well… apart from that last one… sometimes.'_

_I know she likes a challenge, even if she does gripe. 'Anyone else would have kicked me out of bed.' _

_'Or strapped you to it.'_

_'You're the only person who'd dare!' We both laugh. I gaze up at her in adoration. 'I think you're the strongest woman I've met. You lost everything… your gold medal, your marriage…' Ashe's Olympic ambition quickly sunk her first relationship. Her sacrifice was all for naught when a chronic injury permanently damaged her right arm. 'I guess you even lost your parents.' _

_Our jubilation cools. Any sons or daughters I bear might never be grandchildren. Both my parents were alcoholics. Mum died after a meal of cheap wine and ibuprofen. A year later, Dad started getting the shakes. He crashed a rickety VNA forklift and fell to his death. I was mercifully raised by my Dad's feckless older sister, who was grateful to have some direction. Auntie Seryl, many would agree, was hardly a saint, but as close to one as her potential and circumstance allowed. She died of cancer three years ago. Six months before her death, she finally married a simple, decent man. We stay in touch._

_Ashe's parents never accepted our relationship or her divorce. They'd restructured, and lost, a family business to finance her wedding. She hadn't asked for their money but refusing their involvement was impossible. Shacking up with me was the final straw. They weren't really bigots, merely furious that Ashe had been "lying" to them while they bankrupted themselves. They couldn't get their head around the fact that I knew my preferences from childhood, while Ashe didn't. _

_We've come through a lot. I'm guessing our shared resilience played a large part in keeping us together. Lifting her chin, I tell her, 'But you survived, and look at you now, successful and responsible, helping a new generation of kids find a place in the world… a place that isn't halfway up a mountain, stoned off their tits.'_

_'I've only got where I am because you gave up everything to support me.'_

_'And nothing has made me happier.' _

_She bursts into tears._

_We spend a while simply hugging and kissing, affirming our bond. As expected, Ashe's hand roams under my boxer shorts. Even when I'm tired, or just want to be held, she pushes her luck. I think I'd miss her attention if it ceased. We then lie back while Ashe rests her cheek on my bosom and strokes my waist. 'I can't imagine you being pregnant.'_

_'Neither can I… it… scares me. All those changes wrecking my body, slowing me down… but I don't want to reach the menopause and feel that I've run away from a good fight.'_

_'Heh… that sounds like you.'_

_'Thanks. I really dread all those arrogant looks about me "reverting"… you know, the "mannish" lesbian surrendering to her natural urges… or accusations that I've cheerfully taken advantage of some guy so I can sit on my arse and claim benefits.'_

_'I lived off you for long enough,' she grumbles._

_'That wasn't a dig.' I tousle Ashe's hair. 'You present as a middle class femme, it's… I don't want to say it's different but you won't get accused of hypocrisy by certain people.'_

_'Are you worried about what they'll say at work?' I detect a thrilling undercurrent of righteous anger, like she's preparing for battle on my behalf._

_'Oh no, we have some very long conversations when it's dead. Everybody knows I want kids. If anything, they'll moan about who gets the overtime.' Usually, those arguments are a major source of contention but, in Ashe's embrace, disagreements feel very small. 'The hardest part would be renting a truck big enough to hold all the presents from Voli. He spends half his pay packet on his nephews and nieces.'_

_'If that's how he's going to be, you _must_ invite him round. You've hidden him long enough.'_

_'I'm not hiding him. Our days off clash.' Also, fraternising with colleagues isn't really part of our culture. Maybe it's an "old male" thing? I'm the youngest in our lodge by nearly ten years. Volunteers, guides and educators are two a penny but full time operatives are few because the wages and recognition are relatively poor. We are a charity so means are limited. Voli and I may be lifers but most of us are burnouts and misfits from other emergency services. Udyr was a fireman who was kicked out for disruption. Olaf was a first responder for the paramedics before he wrote off too many vehicles. Why we let him fly a helicopter is anyone's guess. 'We'll have to visit him. Our flat's a bit cramped and I wasn't joking about his size. Our bosses only took him on because he looked good in photographs and was mad enough to buy all his own equipment. He likes his job far too much.' _

_'I love hearing about your colleagues. They sound a lot friendlier than mine.' We get on because we don't have to be friends but, yes, politics aren't a concern. 'I get stupid comments about my straight history, not so much from other teachers, mainly facilities and administration. Having Tryn join has been a double-edged sword. Our rapport sparks rumours but he won't let anyone use our past against me. Should anyone accuse him of holding a torch for his ex-wife, he says he'd rather bang my new fiancée.'_

_The horror, the horror. '_That's_ why he creeps about me?'_

_'Pretty much.'_

_'If he asks to be the donor, I'll crash his workshop and build him into a wall.' However distasteful, I had weighed the pros and cons of getting knocked up the old-fashioned way. Ninety seconds of poking sounds more honest and endurable than hours of mucking about with surgical equipment. However, there's a legal minefield if you bypass the system and I've got a poor head for such things. Also, if it gets me out of sex with Tryndamere, the doctors can use all the machines in front of all the students they want._

_'Aw… you'll break his heart.'_

_'I'll break more than his damn heart if he comes near me.' Ashe bursts out laughing. 'I'm serious!'_

_'You sound like a bloke ranting about his gay colleague.' _

_'I'm not scared!' An awkward silence follows my outburst._

_Ashe reads a lot of yaoi, which I can happily endorse if it means I can sleep once in a while. Apparently, the first inkling of her attraction to me was a teenage fantasy that I was a lithe boy pleasuring adult men. I was uncomfortable with that image, and she's never been terribly considerate of my limits. One of our worst arguments erupted from her condescending use of the term "gold star" when I tried to shut down the conversation. As a youth, I had to fight for this identity or lose my sanity while straight-acting Ashe could simply get on._

_Of course, we made up with lots of kissing and I-love-yous. That weekend, I received a classy men's overcoat as an apology. To show my acceptance, I bought Ashe a Merchant Ivory film, starring a young Rupert Graves, and went down on her while it was playing. She said the film was hot and a bit soppy, just like me._

_To be fair, Rupert _was_ very pretty, like a member of an eighties new wave group. I never would have guessed from that migraine-causing _Sherlock_ noise that Ashe loves. I prefer _Columbo_._

_The tension disperses while I number the crime shows I watched with Auntie Seryl. A pity, she's not alive to see my children. Ashe pecks me on the cheek. 'Sorry, that was bad of me, pushing your buttons. I know you're feeling embattled.'_

_'Yeah…'_

_'Look.' Her palm bounces off the mattress. 'You've made all my dreams come true, so, it's only fair that I do the same. If there's anything you want to eat or drink, any films you want to put on... if you want me out of your hair for the night, so you can process everything...'_

_'Thanks but I've spent enough time alone with my thoughts.'_

_'I was hoping you'd say that.' She lifts her leg, wriggling her toes while her skirt shrinks past her garters. 'If there's anything you want me to wear… or _not_ wear… then…' We're definitely having sex tonight. How to make it special is the question. I have one selfish urge that I'm suppressing with all my heart. Ashe's offer keeps repeating as I stare into the distance. While I chew my lip, she jauntily straddles my waist and leans to one side. 'What are you looking at, hey?' She follows my gaze. 'The toy drawer?'_

_'Yeah…'_

_'That's not like you.' She tweaks my nose. 'Forget about me. I want to treat you for once.' When I don't respond, she pouts. 'You never tell me what you like in bed.'_

_'I like _you_.' That's no lie. Maybe it's a failure of imagination but I'm happy to be with Ashe. Everything else can follow._

_'There's got to be _something_ or you wouldn't have gone quiet.' She giggles. 'Do you want me to get you pregnant with the strap-on? Is that it?' Every muscle clenches in fear as I push my face into the duvet. She gasps. 'Oh… oh my… that is what you want.' I can hardly breathe, let alone talk. 'Sej? Oh, Sej, I shouldn't have laughed. I'm so sorry.' _

_'No, it's all right… I'm… pathetic… really. How could you take me seriously if…'_

_'Oh Sejuani.' She takes both my hands. 'My poor Sejuani.' Her pity feels like an epitaph. 'How could I be so careless? You were never worried about our relationship ending if you were a man. You're scared of becoming a woman.'_

_'I _am_ a woman.'_

_'But in your head, you're… something else, aren't you? Maybe not a gender but a role… a tower of strength… and you don't want to crumble in front of me because I won't love you anymore.'_

_'You think I don't trust you?'_

_'No, it's fine! We all get insecure. So many times, I've caught wrinkles, gone up dress sizes and wept in front of the mirror because you'll dump me for a younger model.' That's unacceptable, I have to be more attentive. 'I know full well you don't care but it doesn't stop me worrying… same as you.'_

_'But you can channel your fear into positive action. You can lose weight. You can buy clothes and make-up. Once I've lost my pride, it's gone forever. I can't erase your memory. How can I be your strong fantasy when you've… seen…' her graceful, kingly Sejuani, bending and writhing like a submissive page boy, the magnificent Ares worshipping as Ganymede?_

_Ashe descends and removes all defiance with long, sensual kisses. 'Perhaps I don't want a fantasy… perhaps I want you.'_

_Swallowing, I feel myself, dragged over the precipice. 'You can have good intentions and say the right words… but… your feelings…'_

_'Are eternal.' She takes the first irrevocable step and lays me prone. I feel her warm weight on my hips, back and shoulders. I shiver when her lips touch my neck. 'You are my wonderful… beautiful… desirable Sejuani… and tonight…' she whispers, 'I will make you my woman.'_

* * *

_I'm no stranger to penetration. Fingers, toys and improvised objects have been part of my repertoire since I began masturbating. However, I'd never been properly fucked until now, given up my sheath to someone else's gratification. It's… hitting the spot. I'm not really getting off but I can feel those muscles involved in orgasm triggering, even if pleasure's not firing them. It's emotionally very satisfying. I've always preferred a vigorous run to the buzz of sugary food, and anything worth doing leaves me sore. I'm grunting and flexing as if I'm setting a new personal best. Shockwaves build up, forcing air from my lungs. Raising my head, arching my spine, I feel elbow joints lock out underneath my stony biceps._

_I may be on all-fours but I'm not taking this lying down._

_Ashe did everything right. She went down with intense hunger to prepare me. Her frenzied cunnilingus felt like a wild act of selfish desire, not an obligation. I bit the duvet cover so hard, a button came loose, while my boxer shorts hung off my thighs, making me feel exposed. After peeling off our clothes, Ashe then sat across my bottom, sustaining our connection while she fumbled with the harness. The three straps needed a fair bit of adjustment as her lower body's far more slender than mine. She used a generous amount of lubricant and entered slowly. When I moaned in a secret voice, hidden from both the world and myself, a gun sounded. Ashe rode my hips as though finally free to pursue the one goal she'd always craved._

_I growl with blissful acquiescence to her powerful rhythm. This is exactly what I need. If she commits wholly to her pleasure then I can focus inwards. I grow buoyant as the tender soul of that young girl I once knew, that rising sun. With her gorgeous hands around the bars of her expensive pushbike, she changed me forever, quantising all my life to her inexorable dusk and dawn._

_A three-fold mirror decorates the wall before me. Within its compound eyes, one face looks back. Our dream-world is porous now, fraying at the hem. I look through the divide and meet the gaze of Sejuani. Her skin is flush with ecstasy while Ashe fucks her to completion._

_Across the void, Sejuani speaks. 'You were right all along.'_

_'How… so…?'_

_'Nothing… uh… can take away from you,' she manages between gasps. 'Even your identity now… wide hips raised in fertile invitation, praying for someone to master you, fulfil you... plant love inside where it may grow, unbidden... all of this takes away _nothing_!' A sudden flare causes my whole abdomen to clench… and release… I exhale, surprised I was holding my breath, yearning for something more. 'You can feel it, yes? The tickle that you wrap within your mind and squeeze?'_

_'I can.'_

_'Focus… before we're too raw to come. Rock against her like a wild mare and _own_ us.'_

_Reaching blind, I pin Ashe's hand where she clutches my flank. With loud, animal strength, I buck into her, grinding against the base of her strap-on to involve my clitoris and hasten my feelings to critical mass. The damn breaks and anxious nerves go blissfully quiet as I sail on gentle waves of euphoria. My twitching walls grip Ashe's love as the pulses come slowly to an end. She collapses over me, clearly spent. Her arms encircle my trunk, underneath my breasts, while her cheek nestles between my shoulder blades. The corner of her lip grazes the little hairs on my skin._

_Sejuani speaks over Ashe's murmured happiness. 'Feel your might, how your powerful back supports her weight, how your arms do not bend. You are strong, no matter what role you play. This beautiful new aspect will never diminish you, because _nothing_ will diminish you. We are thousands, and we can only _add_ to your glory.' _

_'Glory?' That's a strange word in this context._

_'Yes… you are the only place where Ashe can find a purpose for her sharp claws. Bare your empty soul to her. That cursed hollow is the glove that will finally keep her from gouging herself. That is greater glory than simple conquest.' With that final thought, Sejuani dives into my psychic sea of milk, and I am left with Ashe and our silent reflections._

_As my view begins to fade, Ashe holds me tight. 'Oh… Sej, you were wonderful… I… oh, I can't remember the last time I felt this close to you. Thank you so much for sharing this.'_

_'You did all the hard work. I should… return the favour before…'_

_She laughs. 'Did you not notice? I came before you did!'_

_'I… may have been distracted.'_

_She nuzzles me. 'Good answer.' The strap-on slides back and forth at a relaxed pace. 'Hmm, I never knew this harness drove back. You don't give much away, spoilsport.'_

_'Huh? It's not supposed to. There are bumps where the joins are but… it may have been loose, and you do have a big…'_

_'Oi!' She taps my bottom. 'What have I told you about mentioning that?'_

_'I know but… why can't I be happy with my fiancée's body?' She begins to sob. 'What's wrong?'_

_'You know that I'm_ _happy… with you being anything… anything at all? You can be a tough, reliable husband, a radiant mother and a slutty, submissive fuck-toy. You can be all these things at once… and I will always love and respect you.' _

_The mirrors engulf the room. 'Ashe… thank you.'_

_Spiralling reflections become infinite. As light smears, I know my path. I had striven to become that one person who would accept Ashe's prowess… when I should have accepted _her_._


	16. Gemini - Chapter 7

**Gemini – Chapter 7**

Reality dawns.

Ashe, cross-legged by a meagre fire, watches me sadly. She has put on some of her clothes, marks of her reclaimed humanity. Just her bra covers her torso, keeping her wound exposed in case it opens without her knowledge. I roll beneath my fur and look up through rheum-heavy eyes, like a wife urging a restless partner back to bed. 'How are you feeling?'

'I…' she wavers, like her ears are playing tricks. 'After all that's happened, you're worried about _me_?'

'You tried to kill yourself.'

'No! That was just…' she cowers. 'I… I was being selfish. I drew attention away from you because…'

'You went beyond a single thrust, Ashe. That wasn't a cry for help.'

'I wasn't going all the way, I think… it's all a blur. Everything's a blur.'

'Wake me up next time. I don't want you sitting alone with your guilt.'

'I had this fire for companionship, and I won't hurt myself anymore. However bad I feel, I was wrong to decide my punishment.'

'I think we both were.' Knowing how precious our agreement is, we share hopeful glances. 'Do you want the lights back on?'

'Yes, I'd love to see your magic.'

I rise on all-fours and totter precariously, my balance disturbed with asymmetrical pain. One leg aches with pierced muscle, while the other glows with the heat of my sprain. 'Ugh, could you help me walk? I'd rather depend on you than crawl through the dirt.'

Her smile touches her eyes. 'Of course.' Almost leaping with joy, she drapes my arm across her broad shoulders.

Gazing over the waterfall of her platinum hair, the colour of sea-spray, I feel tall for the first time in years, and kiss her on the cheek. 'Thank you.'

She looks up in amazement. 'Is this real?'

I turn her jaw and claim her lips, both of us revelling in my new power. 'Yes.'

Once I've put the stars back in our sky, she places her hand over mine where I touch the rock. 'I still can't believe you're a mage. It's like we share this beautiful secret.' She laughs. 'I'm being silly. Volibear must know, right?'

'He's been through my dreams. There are few things he doesn't.'

'I'm jealous. I want a secret of my own.'

'You'll get your chance, I'm sure.' Heading back, we sit down with the fire between us, giving each other the space to be lucid. I'm still naked from the waist up, so, grabbing a blanket, I cover myself to keep Ashe's eyes on my face. We can't simply resolve our problems with attraction. I have to banish one fear before it consumes her. 'Listen, Ashe, I could have fought back.'

'And you could have said "yes" but a refusal wouldn't have stopped me. For all the responsibility you place on victims, _I_ threw us into the depths. You didn't pull us down.'

'I could have left, when you gave me fair warning.'

'You'd have limped across the Freljord on your sprain?'

What's a twisted ankle to rising from the dead? 'I've endured worse.'

'You have _now_. Perhaps you would have been safer, crawling through the wilderness.'

'I made my choice. How rash must I be to deserve my punishment?'

'A punishment fits the crime! At worst, you deserve a quick, honourable death but I _humiliated_ you, stripped away your clothes, your dignity, your sense of self. I watched it all go… then you told me you might never come back!' She pleads with her hands. 'With all the brutality you've witnessed, at home and at war, could you honestly say that anyone _tortured_ you so much?'

'I…' There's no way out of this. 'I can't remember the pain of birth. Now I have some idea of what it was like.' I was told my screams were endless, and that my parents abandoned me as a weakling. A full ten days later, someone found me in a drift, silent and alive. I was a miracle they couldn't ignore.

She protests. 'Your birth was necessary. What happened was…'

'A little death… and I have to begin again somehow.'

'I understand. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused. I'm sorry for making you cry. There's no reason to feel ashamed.'

'What is reason compared to force?' I look into the flames. They're shrinking now, like my world, my possibilities. 'I've been fettered in shame for so long, and I've searched high and low for an escape. I leave one cage for another… title… body… soul… but love? Love is the smallest cage of all. Within its low, narrow confines, you can only bow to one of two moral horizons… the shame of acknowledging your superior… or the shame of loving a weaker person. When you claimed your eight-score pounds of flesh, I don't know whether I surrendered or gave into paralysis and made no choice at all.'

'So that's why you urge my darkness… to justify your love?'

'I don't see it as darkness but… yes. It was a mistake. You can be whomever you wish, and your strength grows without my interference. I still think you'd achieve more with us but I doubt anything would suppress you for long.'

'Yes, and we're finding out the hard way.' She gives a brief, crooked smile. 'Are you calling a truce?'

'Even if I stepped aside, Volibear would take my place. Our conflict goes beyond us. You know that.'

'All too well.' Ashe toys with her bra. 'That's kind of what brought me here.'

'You've been silent about your reasons. Were you hoping I'd press you?'

'No, I was looking for some indication that you wouldn't merely approve. I needed more from you, Sejuani.'

'Without knowing what's happened, I can't make any promises.'

'Then could you at least respond as a person rather than a chieftain?'

As if that's an option following our trials. 'I can't just forget parts of myself.'

'Then I'll have to make do with your honesty.' She prepares for a long explanation by settling back onto her palms and frustrating any wish to cower. 'So… I'm guessing you knew about the Demacians?'

Udyr was all over that like a rash. 'You were making overtures?'

'Yes, with their help, I thought I could win through sheer numbers.'

'Hmm… they'd struggle with the climate. Your chances would be very good, yes, but Demacia's casualties would outnumber yours and be mourned for generations. Your descendants would pay back their loss tenfold. Is that what you want for your children?'

'I'd thought about all this. Debt can be managed like any other resource and I'd already tapped their self-interest. Old King Jarvan's apparently _very_ concerned with a hostile Freljord allying with Noxus.'

'Under _my_ leadership?' Ashe nods. 'You must be joking.' I have no time for Noxus. They're a pack of chancers playing at war, dolling themselves up in bones and blades while true fighters get on with it. Of course, their greatest warrior lives in exile.

'I may have… embellished one scenario.' She takes obvious pride in her guile. 'He sent his eldest son. Prince Jarvan was more sceptical but he loves to help the righteous, and his mage was keen to get her hands bloody, so the bait worked.'

I frown as I picture the Demacian vanguard. Other magic users make effective anchors for clairvoyance when our seers conjure distant lands from their cauldrons. One figure was particularly vivid. 'Am I thinking of the right woman?'

Ashe grins. 'You certainly are.'

'The prattling society girl with the dead eyes and painted smile who dresses like an overgrown fairy?'

'That's her, Luxanna. She's cold as ice and whip-smart.' Ashe grins and licks her teeth. 'You're into cruel, girly women. I think you'd _like_ her.'

'Hmph. I'll take your word about her charms but I prefer lovers with passion.'

'Oh my… you're giving me butterflies.' Her flirtatious manner doesn't last. She's too conscious of the harm she's done to be so much as gallant. 'Either way, she wasn't an issue. There was another woman.'

Frustratingly, the rest of the Demacian entourage was unclear, though two others made an impression, one with magic and one with inhuman presence. 'I can only recall a musician, who, I'm guessing, was another mage, and a half-dragon.'

Ashe becomes a furtive teenager, smug at hiding a partner from disapproving eyes, or plunder from a chieftain. 'You didn't see her. No one does.'

'A planewalker?'

'No, just a plain girl, awkward, forgettable… sweet.' Ashe offers an apologetic smile after the last word, as if regretting a slip of the tongue.

I know where she's going with this. Without conviction, I say, 'We lead separate lives. You don't have to remain celibate.'

'I can't do celibacy.' Her eyes follow the bare line of my sternum. 'To you, love is a cage. To me… love is a dancing flame beneath a lonely mountain path, enticing me down from a noble peak into warm darkness.' Her voice, loaded with desire, still paralyses me. Her forceful need and my ready submission will not forever dissolve in a single savage night. 'After welcoming Jarvan, I couldn't sleep… thanks to _you_… so I crawled off to the shooting range to drown my sorrows in archery. That's where I saw Quinn.'

Ashe gnaws on her lip, as though pondering how to continue. My heart sinks with realisation. 'You didn't simply drag her to your bed. You got _involved_.' Ashe doesn't reply. 'Tell me. You can't change what's done. I can look after myself.'

'Haven't we established that you _can't_?'

How do I leave such openings? I guess I've always been a scrapper, not a duellist. 'Yes, but I'm still here.'

'Only because you don't have a choice.'

I'm growing impatient. 'Are you stalling? If you don't want to tell me then hold your tongue. Don't use me as an excuse.'

Ashe looks hurt. 'You're my _priority_, not an excuse.'

My wrath breaks upon her declaration. 'I… I know. Just don't insist on my weakness. I get it. You think my pride will deter me from speaking up. Unfortunately, it's hard for you to second guess without scoring points.'

'Yes, and we both lose patience.' Ideas form and separate while she drums her fingers. 'Do you have nothing I can work with?'

'I confess that hearing about an emotional affair will… unsettle me but I was honest about liking passionate women. I'd happily risk a few burns to know your fire.'

'But you always have to push and risk everything. I don't want a repeat of earlier.'

'That won't happen.' A tooth can only be pulled once. 'But I can set limits if it would help.'

'Yes, definitely!' She's overjoyed. I'm sharing my fears, a true gesture of intimacy.

'While mountains lie between us, I can bear you making love to someone else… but if you start a family then I will become your endless nightmare.'

She gawps in terror. 'Sejuani, I… have to provide an heir!'

'Then you will have to kill me, or neither of us will ever know peace.'

Her eyes widen. 'But I…' she slumps. 'I'd be really happy for you if…'

'No, Ashe, there's no reciprocation. I can't explain my feelings. They just… are.'

'That's… wow, I'm not sure how to… should I be scared, flattered?' I've no suggestions. 'You're very much playing the part of the barbarian warmonger if that's any comfort.'

'I doubt anything would soothe my pain if that scenario came to be.'

'Well, I'm glad you mentioned it.' Ashe toys with her split ends. 'I planned on having a child, sooner rather than later.'

'Do as you will. I've said what I must. We should… move on.'

Ashe nods. Her mouth twitches in a wounded smile. With dry humour she says, 'I believe my regrettable affair should make a nice diversion.'

'You said her name was Quinn?'

'She was barely an adult… physically nineteen but… younger, really.' Her tension thaws, even as her blush deepens. I realise that Ashe doesn't relax often, at least with me. 'Quinn lived a normal, wretched life, born to a farmer, lost her brother, joined up as a ranger… then she pursued a Noxian agent, and found herself in Prince Jarvan's entourage. Her best friend was a giant eagle, which tells you everything about her people skills. I guess Jarvan was doing a shy girl a favour by letting her keep watch.'

'Oh, I get it, a commoner for him to wheel out or hide when it suits him. She could earn _true_ respect if she joined us.'

'I'd pass on your invitation but she's… loyal to her country.' Those four words are laden with regret.

'She's a Demacian with all the privileges of rank. I doubt she'll rise above any time soon.'

'You don't have the means to pass judgement!' Ashe replies with alarming fervour. 'She has depths that are still blooming. I hope Runeterra sees them one day.'

'Perhaps… I wouldn't hold your breath.'

'Sejuani, could you give it a rest? I thought you were good with this.'

'I am but you're investing a lot in someone who could only disappoint you.'

She waggles her eyebrows at me. '_Really_, now?'

I flinch. 'Life as a Winter's Claw chieftain _is_ falling short, every day that you throw a less than ideal punch or fail to crush your enemies. I may let you down but I promise to do so honestly, which is more than you'll get from any Demacian.'

'I'm Avarosan. How many times have I beaten _your_ expectations?'

'Plenty.' Questioning her bloodline reeks of desperation. I concede. 'Fine, you've made your point. I'm doubtful her spark will survive her circumstance but something must have drawn your gaze if she were plain as you describe.'

'It was her loneliness. Our love is a taboo subject in Demacia. Quinn had obviously given up on adulthood, remaining a girl rather than half a woman.' Ashe covers her face with both hands. 'I was crazy enough to believe that a scout wouldn't recognise a queen without finery, so I took a false name to seduce her, to share a little bit of comfort and acceptance.'

'Wait.' I join the dots. 'Are you telling me this… _whore_ led you on, _used_ you then ran to Jarvan with a blow-by-blow account of your dalliance? Please don't say that he refused your terms because of _that_!'

'I wasn't what I said I was. He couldn't fully trust…'

I'm shouting. This rot is the kind of low hypocrisy from which Ashe needs rescuing. 'Your choice of partner has nothing to do with him! It has no effect on your prowess in battle or the wealth at your command. If anything, he should feel honoured. You spurned your own fair maidens to foul your bed with his… token drudge.'

'I'm supposed to be monogamous! The Demacians are big on virtue and…'

'As skin deep as everyone else!' Why didn't one person at her court say the following? 'I know what your crime was. Jarvan had other plans for this girl, _personal_ ones, and you shattered them by revealing her taste!'

Ashe goes blank. 'Oh, sweet Avarosa, why didn't I think? Everything's in place… a fairy tale for the masses. Prince Jarvan weds an ordinary girl, becomes a man of the people. He loses no face with the gentry because all he has to do is knight a proven hero.' She begins to panic. 'If she can't fulfil her purpose then… dear Quinn, what have I done?'

'_She_ betrayed _you_!'

'For the sake of a woman's touch before she died!' She's actually crying over this traitorous waif. 'I might have been her only chance! How could she refuse me? How could a loyal solider hide intelligence from her liege? I backed her into a corner. She was a girl, remember? Only a girl…'

'You were fifteen when you took charge!'

'I was fully grown by then. She wasn't.'

I feel a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I'm pleased with Ashe's carnal defiance of her gilded cage, humbled as I could never solely quench her thirst, envious that others know her body and soul… but most of all, I'm _angry_ that some callow bitch repaid Ashe's generosity with betrayal then retained victimhood. 'If she's old enough to plunge a knife into your back, she's old enough to be responsible. I swear, if I catch her, she'll get a hiding that she'll remember for the rest of her short life!'

Ashe takes my hand. 'Sej?' Her cool touch lessens my storm to a drop of water on a calm lake. 'I'm glad you care but a frightened young woman is not responsible for all my troubles… even if she _does_ make you jealous?' I blow out my cheeks in dismissal. 'Quinn led me on but, in her position, I'd have done exactly the same thing. She's already been punished, at her request. You don't have to do anything. Her blood is… on my hands.' With unexpected violence, Ashe clutches my shoulder tight enough to leave a mark. 'I… I'm sorry, I need a hug.' Receiving her to my bosom, I draw the fur across. 'Thank you.' Her lashes are wet as they brush my skin. 'So much pain. I could have stopped it all by not existing. You'd have your identity… my people would have Demacian allies. You could fall as an icon, or live in harmony with us. Either way, you'd be happy… rather than...' she trails off.

Generally speaking, I'd shorten "live in harmony" to "fester" but Ashe's vulnerability stows my tongue. 'I can't imagine Tryndamere brokering a deal by himself.'

'You'd be surprised.' Ashe can form sentences without angst if Tryndamere's the subject. He's of little consequence. 'However rustic, his charms, he can parley with the best of them.'

Sadly, for the world, he's always had a nose and a mouth. It's more his lack of direction that I fault. 'Would he show initiative, set things in motion, without your prodding?'

'Eh… now that he's got experience, I think he would. At least, Anivia would keep him focused.'

'Anivia helps run your tribe?' It's old news that she backed Ashe's reign but I didn't think Anivia strayed from her lair to play an active part in government. I'll have to keep this in mind.

'She tries, bless her.'

'Do cryophoenixes have political ambitions?'

'I doubt it. She's just a busybody.'

'Without any challenges to your power, I'm guessing your exile is voluntary.'

'That's right. Only Tryndamere knows the full story, but others were close enough to draw conclusions. I don't envy his job, explaining what happened with as little commotion as possible, though he makes any damage seem trivial.' You lose your clan, you gain perspective. 'He did recommend I get a concubine so I don't eye up foreign agents.'

'Why stop at one? You clearly have the resources and appetite for more.'

'_Please_ don't back him up!' She pats my belly in reproach. 'He knows I'm obsessed with you, by the way. He worked that one out for himself.'

'Really?' Ashe nods. Her cheekbone skirts my nipple. 'Do you keep a diary?'

'Not exactly, my journals of erotica dwell behind three locks. He's just observant and willing to bend logic when it suits him. Everyone dismisses Tryndamere. They respect _me_ far too much.' Ashe disentangles our clinch and I see her face, bare, spent and open. Blotches of raw skin map out a landscape of lines, pores and bruises. Her forehead is etched with concern. Often, I'm so deep under the spell of her divine bearing, I forget she's older than me, with all the scars of age and stress. 'I came here to give my people a taste of independence, make them realise how valuable they are without their false idol. Meanwhile, I could rediscover this country, learn how to serve it as just another broken woman.'

'You're… teaching them self-reliance?'

'I thought you'd approve.' Ashe chuckles. 'We're not a lost cause.'

I wonder if she has an answer to the question plaguing us both. 'How do you lead a country as… half a person?'

'I…' She looks around the cave, as if the walls might contain a hidden truth. 'I don't know, Sej. Without help, it seems impossible, and help is fleeting and imperfect. Solitude revealed so much when I was a girl but, when I came here, the silence grew deafening. I couldn't think any more… well, not constructively. Staring into space, pulling out my hair, bathing obsessively, not bathing at all… I wasted so much time feeling anxious, trapped and miserable.'

'You should have left.'

'I couldn't.' She brushes my fringe and smiles unhappily. 'We both know why… the darkness, that awful paralysis, when you couldn't save yourself.'

'Helplessness.'

'You understand.' She touches my lips. 'I thought you would. It was in your kiss.' Her arm drops and she looks away before she loses control. 'The message I fired was a distress call. My people don't know I'm here. No Volibear will come for me.'

'That's…'

'Dangerous? Irresponsible? Yes… I've been here thirty-three days. The mask has already begun to slip.' Her voice cracks with shame. 'As you know.'

Lifting her chin, I draw her gaze back. 'Let it fall. I accept who you are.'

We meet. Ashe's mouth swallows mine, softly consuming all my disparate selves with loving hunger, while I happily surrender them to her need. As my scorned, sensitive body cries for validation, I find myself opening up in subtle ways, pushing out my chest, exposing my throat. Ashe breaks off, and I regain my composure. We must find a safe path before we stumble into the dangerous morass of our sexual identities. 'Thank you,' she says. 'I may not like the parts of me that you do but I should express my gratitude.'

'I won't insist on your corroboration if you're too sore.'

'That would help.' She pats my leg. 'I know you mean well but… you can seem like you're disregarding my feelings.'

'I'm just angry they cause you needless pain.'

'I get it. You don't have to be defensive, just… maybe let these things run their course rather than stomping everything out.'

Her complaint is familiar. Volibear's well-meaning interference can be frustrating when I'd sooner be left alone. 'I'll try. Stomping things out is what I do best.'

Ashe groans, rolling her eyes in fond irritation. 'I'll regret saying this but… it's part of your charm.' She pauses. 'Having said that, you've been _really_ quiet, ever since we fought Lissandra.'

'You're objecting? I have resources to manage as well.'

'And I have big charts of your activity from year to year, so I can see discrepancies.' I knew my excuses wouldn't fly, not when it happened in front of her. 'When Lissandra sprung her trap, I… felt you die.'

'Yes.'

Her arms leap, as if protecting her from a lethal strike. 'What happened?'

I'm potentially costing us the war. She'll know how vulnerable we truly are. 'Kalista.'

'The Spear of Vengeance?' Ashe knows my fate already. This is her staggering the blow, as if hearing it in little pieces will dampen its impact.

'Yes, I gave her my soul for this… half-life. She took away my future, my vision of a world to be, my dreams. I go to sleep in darkness, wake up in darkness. My leadership is a joke. Volibear maintains a pitiful charade, when he should have killed me.'

Knocking the wind out of my lungs, Ashe engulfs me, sending us both to the ground. She begs between loud sobs and a hailstorm of kisses. 'No! You can't vanish into her swarm! I… I thought… if I couldn't spend my life here, learning to be with you… I could soar through the heavens until I found your star! Please don't go… forever… please don't…' Her cries dissolve into wordless bawling. Who can speak at their own funeral? I can't say anything to console her. 'Why… how could you do this to me?'

Her selfish demand reassures me. 'I had to save the future.'

'No!' She pounds weakly on my shoulder. 'You can't let me off! I know what happened! I was there! For once in your life, blame me!'

'I… I had to save you.'

She falls back and screams like an erupting volcano. While she vents her anguish, I quickly move all dangerous objects away from her, before they threaten her life a second time. Her intense purge ends in a spasm of coughing. She doubles-up, hacking and spluttering until she crushes her temples between her palms. 'Ugh, my head, I'm… going to be sick!' Racing through the dirt on all-fours, Ashe nearly careers into the stream. I support her while she vomits. When she's done, I rest her head in my lap and wipe her face. 'Why… why didn't you tell me?' There's broken glass in her crystal voice. 'I never would have… assaulted you if…'

'I'd rather you did that a thousand times than treated me like an invalid.'

'You… have… no… _soul_!' Ashe protests. 'And you lost it for my sake… you… stubborn, silly bitch. I'm… so mad at you right now.'

'Good.' She can take her frustration out on me, rather than herself.

I hum a plaintive melody from a song of the wilderness, the closest thing I know to a lullaby. She grows childlike as the circular pattern, without a crescendo, suggests open harmonies rather than predestination. Ashe looks up. 'Sejuani?'

'Yes?'

'You love me so much that you'd give up your soul?'

'I… guess I do.' The bare conclusion startles me. 'Close your eyes and think on that. Forget everything else.'

While Ashe half-dozes in my lap, I feel strong. Even if this body fails, I can emotionally bear her fury, her longing, her sadness. When I was praised for my feminine bounty as a girl, I saw it as a curse. When Ashe gorges upon it, I become taller than a mountain, broad as the horizon. Even when she pushes me down, _I_ beckon forth her desire.

Suddenly, her gaze, cold and bright, fixes on mine. I wet my lips at her steel when she declares, 'I'm going to save you.'

Once, I believed in possibility, while Ashe believed in high walls. Her new determination to push limits, rather than impose them, is a triumph. 'Kalista dwells beyond our plane. How could you reach her?'

'With the resources of a monarch, and a legendary being who passes between life and death.'

'Anivia?' While I'd love to be rid of that interfering old bird, I have to voice my concern before Ashe blunders into peril. 'Her magic and immortality are bound with the Freljord. If she leaves her element while Kalista remains in hers…'

'I know that. All I need is an open gate. _I_ can do the rest!'

Her passion is overwhelming and… romantic. Ashe means to cross over personally to fight an aspect of the cosmos. How can so great a warrior come from so weak a tribe? 'You can't risk…'

Ashe ignores me, the battle-rage consuming her thoughts. 'I am a predator, a monster!' she raises her clenched fist. 'I have denied it long enough, brought agony to those I love! Instead, I will harness my cruelty… and I will cut a bloody swathe across the afterlife until I've reclaimed your soul!' Ashe kisses me with possessive ardour. 'We _will_ be together. Should I fall to Kalista, we'll be valkyries, bringing justice to…'

'No,' I say, lifting an arm and softly breaking her grip.

'Wh… what?' Ashe gawps while she tries to recover her lost thread.

'You can't join Kalista. Vengeance would suit me… but you, the champion of mercy? You'd tear yourself apart.'

'All this time you've insisted…'

'You shouldn't compromise yourself.' I take her hands in mine. 'Don't become something you're not, especially for me.'

'You're impossible.' Ashe hugs me. Her long sigh of tender frustration kisses my neck. 'I'm glad you acknowledge my gentle side, once in a while, but you should take your own advice. You've sacrificed enough, and instead of paying you back, I took advantage.'

'You did nothing wrong. If you mean to further your cause, you _should_ take advantage when…'

'_Sej_…'Ashe draws out my name in a kindly scold. I gasp when she playfully circles my breast. Lifting my head back in arousal, I meet her knowing grin. 'I understand. I _really_ do. My princess wants to keep her virtue while I have my wicked way with her. There's _nothing_ wrong with that. However, you can't experience the real thing without real pain.' I dare not answer. Rebuffing her suspicions would only make them worse. 'If earning your love means honouring your traditions then I will do my best… _once_ you're back at full strength.'

'There's no such thing as an equal fight. Should you wait for one, we'll end up where we started, rattling swords across the Freljord until we die from old age.' Ashe looks at me, pleading for a lifeline. 'However, I'll be patient if it means you won't harm yourself again.'

'I'm not looking for perfection, just something better than what happened. If you had seen your distress… all of your words won't convince me that was right.'

I show her my bracelet. 'Ignore them. As long as I'm wearing this, I will accept you, no matter how much I protest.'

Ashe reaches for the jewellery but every time her fingers draw close, they dart away. 'My… proposal gift, I couldn't bear to mention it and wake up. Is it…?' She gulps.

'Yes, it is real. Volibear conducted a ritual so we could explore my dreams. They were sapping my will to fight and we had to do _something_. When I stirred, your bracelet was on my wrist. Apparently, the storm leaves minor tokens of discord if you provide inspiration. I… couldn't bring myself to remove it.'

'Oh, it's like a ballad! Thank you for keeping it.' She gathers the courage to examine further. 'Sorry to say but I reckon it's every bit as cheap as the one "I" made. Six karat, fake as Avarosan wine.'

'So what? I'd have this over any meaningless bauble.' Why does jewellery have importance beyond ornamentation or sentiment?

'I'm a queen, and you deserve better than a peasant heirloom.'

'And you're missing the point.'

'I'm allowed to be critical of my own handiwork.' She frowns at the miniscule imperfections of her motif. 'Swear that you'll take it off when I go too far. Don't worry that you'll offend me.'

'Such a loaded gesture _will_ hurt you.'

'Not as much as the alternative. Maybe… I could have it when you're feeling sore? You could find shelter without having to… break off our engagement.' We fall silent, aware that we're treating an absurd fantasy like a real, historical fact. Anyone listening would think we were mad or children. I guess both groups are foolish and wise in profound ways. 'However, you should really find another badge of your consent.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'Good.' She kisses my cheek. 'So Volibear _does_ know everything. Should I slap him?'

'What he's observed is punishment enough.' His concern for my well-being is a knife, plugging an artery. Poor Volibear can't remove the blade without ending himself.

'You are _blatantly_ his darling little girl and he values your trust. I'm sure he's grateful… really…' she pauses, like she's discovered a pattern. 'Sej?'

'What?'

'Are you scared of that bracelet?'

I'm taken by surprise. 'Eh… material evidence of your claim _was_ inconvenient. You can bury thoughts. I couldn't bury this without… you know.' She glows in approval. 'But I've gotten used to it. Why do you ask?'

'You're holding it at arm's length.'

I follow her gaze. 'Oh, that's just so I can… see…' Horror dawns. I _know_ I can perceive the details up close, even if it's a… bit harder to… focus… and… I've got a headache. With an angry bark, I slump in defeat. 'Of all the things to come true…'

Ashe consoles me with gentle strokes. 'You're longsighted, aren't you?'

'No, I… always found it easier to look into the distance. It was a good thing! A blessing!' I thump the ground. 'Ancestors, damn you! Which one of you dogs thrust your stupid cock into a blind whore? To think you'd poison our bloodline with…' Ashe pulls me tight and lays kisses upon every part of my head. When she reaches my neck, I feel her tears on my cheek. 'Ashe?'

'I'm sorry! This is horrible for you but…' she's beaming uncontrollably. 'I can't help it. I'm so glad!'

'Why?'

She kisses both my eyes then my lips. Our foreheads meet, and Ashe breathes her answer. 'Because… I finally have my secret.'


	17. Gemini - Chapter 8

**Gemini – Chapter 8**

After all our drama, the rest of our stay was the calmest week I've known. While my legs healed, Ashe and I passed the time with simple talk, largely about our childhoods. We were both misfits in our ways, though I did a better job of conforming. While my girlhood was a poor match for my role, I could remain faithful to my personality and earn respect. Ashe hid everything. Her long walks through the wilderness and silent communion with her bow saddened me. When I put forth that her teenage boldness and sexuality would have been celebrated, were she born to my tribe, Ashe appeared wistful.

She voiced admiration for my peers' natural discretion, regarding my gender issues. I was compelled to explain effeminate men had a rough time, and I'd lost many quick minds, including my best quartermaster, to the Avarosan. When Ashe proposed a yearly swap-meet, I cheerfully announced my scheme to embed useful inverts amongst ursine. Hefty paws had a large demand for small, dextrous hands. I'm not losing any more talent.

Ashe waved off my refusal, threatening to bribe any dissidents with new houses. We laughed as equals.

Despite our unspoken promise… well, Ashe's really… to avoid sexual congress until debts were settled, we made love once. After all our stress, I never thought it could be something as earthbound as waking up to the rhythm of Ashe quietly masturbating. I saw her tense back, her shoulders flexing like the wings of a bird with each ragged exhalation. Through grace, or lust, I gingerly asked if she needed help. Ashe jumped in shock and I felt ashamed for intruding on a private moment. She nodded without eye contact. I curled up next to her, disclosing my relative inexperience and asking for direction. Apparently, she was unconcerned with speed or motion, wanting only to have my face close to hers while she found solace in my skin. I watched her expression as her nimble hands roamed. She grabbed with escalating passion until she pushed my britches down. When her fingers skirted my labia, she came. One brief touch was enough motivation to let Ashe continue. She lifted my top and kissed a line between abdominal muscles, pausing luxuriously at the folds below my navel. After peppering my thighs and running her nose through my pubic hair, she went down on me with a loud sigh of happiness. I thoroughly enjoyed the pleasure but it was nothing compared with knowing Ashe's desire. Finishing with the relative chore of my own orgasm, I basked in her satisfaction, weaving my hands through her locks while she rested on my belly.

Neither of us dared spoil the moment with angst or conflict. We didn't speak.

After falling asleep in each other's arms, I woke up on my front, echoing my pubescent drive to flatten my chest. Ashe's pecks on my buttocks revealed I was yet indecent. Arching my back, I looked over my shoulder at her unconvincing remorse and felt… alluring. Ashe playfully struck my bottom, kissed my lips and said, 'Thank you,' before giving me space to rise.

After our short voyage through calm domestic seas, we landed on Runeterra. The journey was locked away in our memories, preserved in amber for an impossible future.

My legs healed enough that any pain was merely bracing, a welcome reminder that I could exert myself again. While I marched in a figure-eight, Ashe joked that she had to leave before I used my greater mass to get revenge. I was energetic and pugnacious enough to consider it, and I suspected Ashe, from the siren song in her voice, would enjoy the reversal. However, performing dominance at anyone's beckon felt awkward and strangely disempowering. I had little time for those who threw themselves at my feet, in hope of a sexually charged beating. When you have my reputation, it's very much an occupational hazard.

I suppose, given my need, I should have more compassion, for my "victims" _and_ myself. However, that was a very distant shore and I'd only just found a raft. I didn't reply to Ashe's teasing.

* * *

I'm due to leave. My stay has been longer than expected. I'm unsure how many days have lapsed. Ashe drew scratches on the wall at regular intervals but I didn't recognise any of the glyphs. Maybe she's devised a new language to thwart intelligence gathering, or reclaimed an old Iceborn script from her travels. Her code warrants investigation. Udyr's curious and astute enough to have a go but I'd have to persuade him to do something other than harass enemy troops.

Ashe returns, plastered with sweat and shaking with adrenaline, as if she'd won a tense duel. She says between gasps. 'We've got company, trolls… I think they're loners, nothing to do with Trundle or Lissandra, but a large group. I saw nine crawling over the scree.'

'Did they see you?'

'Loose rocks gave me away but I'm coated with blubber so they won't smell anything human. If we're lucky, they'll break off their search and assume it was a gust of wind.' Her fingers twitch and flex while her eyes chase every shadow.

'Not if they see your footprints. We have to get out of here.'

She looks relieved. I guess flight was her preference but she doubted my stamina. '_Please_ tell me that you can survive the journey back.'

I may panic at the thought of meeting others, knowing my perfect, inviolable front is just an illusion, but I've powered through to the stage where I'm overcompensating with grit. Right now, I could walk the length of Runeterra. 'No promises but I'm confident.'

'Okay,' she looks at her feet. 'Are you… ready to go now?'

Taking a moment, I commit these walls to the darkness within. Even if night lasts forever, the constellations of true ice will be my stars. 'Ready as I'll ever be. Let's go.'

She reaches out. 'I… I know it's a bit silly and childish but can I… hold your hand until we get outside?'

'Aren't you better off holding a weapon?'

'Can't _you_ be my weapon?' she says, fluttering her lashes.

'I feel more like your sheath.' Ashe looks undecided whether to laugh or sulk at my comment. 'I'm sorry. I'll be whatever you need.'

Her mouth cracks into a broad grin. Ashe doesn't smile fully that often. It's all knowing smirks and suggestive bites of her lip. 'I'll hold you to that… one day.' She takes my hand.

* * *

A path walked once grows quicker to the mind. Even so, the speed at which we surface alarms me. The sun blazes down with pale intensity. Blinking, I stumble about while a confident Ashe launches her spirit-hawk into the wilderness. Her eyes roll back and flicker. Volibear's crackle when performing similar feats. I don't know which is more disturbing.

Ashe frowns. 'Only six of them,' she says, three unaccounted for, 'but all their tracks go north. You should be fine if you strike out west for half a mile or so.'

'Got it.'

She wipes her nose. 'I… this might be the last time and… I don't know what to say.'

'We'll meet again. Even if Kalista's taken my future, that's the one thing I can believe in.'

'Yes, but… will I have the chance to do this?' Throwing her arms around my neck, she kisses me deep enough to fill my lungs. I clinch her waist as I play with the blonde hair spilling from her fallen hood. Ashe's weight is mine to bear. With a playful urge, I sweep her off her feet. She giggles. 'Ooh, this is nice.'

'Defeat us in battle and you can do whatever you want.' I lean down to kiss her again. 'If you're serious about uniting the Freljord, rather than ruling it, you have to accept our differences.'

'Then I'll grow strong enough to pick _you_ up and haul you back to my lair.'

Despite all the screaming of my conscience, I'm giddy with anticipation. 'It won't be easy but… I look forward to it.'

'I bet you do.' She looks pensive. 'Hmm… should I feel insecure that you'd lose interest if I lost?'

'I think you'll always have some hold over me, no matter what happens.'

'Good answer.' Before I try, and fail, to carry her off, I put Ashe down. 'So… this is goodbye then?'

'Yes… goodbye.' We drift apart. I'm walking backwards… then sideways while Ashe looks on. Before I turn for good, I feel a jolt of courage. If I am to lead my people then I must not fear anything. With a gale's roar, I say it first. 'I love you!'

She collapses to the ground like I'd struck her with my flail. On her knees, quaking with emotion, Ashe cries loudly, torn between holding her chest and wiping her tears. I'm stunned at our mutual vulnerability. Simple words can destroy us both. Even compared to my stewardship of the Winter's Claw, thousands of lives, this burden feels impossibly great. I think I understand her distress when she worries about her effect on other people.

Ashe climbs to her feet with reclaimed energy. She pounds her breastbone. 'I swear, mighty warrior-princess, I _will_ prove myself worthy!'

Recalling Volibear's maxim, "All that matters, to a hunter…" gives me an idea. Rolling up my sleeve, I snap off the bracelet. 'When you have...' I present my challenge. 'Offer me this.'

Ashe looks both terrified and exhilarated. 'Oh… oh, Sejuani, I'd love to but… I can't risk losing it.'

'You're risking _yourself_, aren't you?' Grabbing her wrist, I fasten the bracelet around her. 'Think of it as a lifeline. As long as you have to return it, you'll keep safe.' I grin with the satisfaction of exerting a strand of control over my gorgeous predator. 'Happy now?'

She covers a burst of laughter. My brow furrows. 'Oh, I'm sorry! You're like a mischievous little girl when you smile like that. You caught me off guard. It's nice, and… a little bit naughty.' She keeps laughing. 'And now you're sulking!' I groan. 'Am I ruining our moment?'

'You wouldn't be Ashe without your sparkle,' and she wouldn't be half the tactician.

'I'm glad we don't always have to be serious.' Rattling the bracelet, she tucks it underneath her armour. 'Too big for me… not sure how to wear this. I wouldn't dream of altering it.'

'You could work on your triceps.'

'Oh, I know your game. You just want me with bigger muscles.' Biting her finger, she pores over my limbs. 'Can't say I blame you.'

'Don't ever change for me. You're perfect as you are.' There's a brief pause while Ashe and I beam stupidly at each other like swooning lovebirds. 'Erm… try putting the bracelet on your leg with a support bandage.'

'Sweet _and_ practical, what have I done to deserve you?' She blows me a kiss. The real thing would keep us here forever. 'Goodbye, honey-bear.'

As I leave, I hope a certain over-protective ursine doesn't hear that. I don't want him thinking he's "papa-bear".

* * *

My journey back home is quick and painless, even dull. I'm already missing Ashe's company.

I feel, every inch, the leader I was before this romantic ordeal. It's ironic, how the solution was to fall even deeper… though, thinking back, I did resolve to march through the darkness to reach the dawn. I'm nearly shadowboxing as I walk. Everything's a bit sluggish and weak from inactivity but a few good meals and a vigorous training schedule will put me right. I'll have the men shaking in their boots. Even if, in private, I become a tender, willing receptacle for Ashe's drive, in battle, I can lead armies, crush bones into chalk and inspire dread.

I am Sejuani, and I am a bridge across worlds. I have lost my soul but embraced my shadow.

Miles pass. Activity swells the horizon. I picture my warriors, peering through the cracks to see me writhe in submission. What came naturally before may be false to knowing eyes. Rolling my neck and shoulders, I prepare myself. No matter how gruelling, I must _earn_ my confidence back.

A lone figure breaks, and I'm elated when I see Bristle. My loyal steed must have sensed my return. Swaying on his back is the only other person who could ride him without ending life as a meal. A hurricane of limbs and hair gambols out of the saddle. The berserk Olaf is the fourth corner of our celebrated front-line, as relentlessly savage as Udyr is tireless and Volibear is persistent. Olaf towers above me, yet his knuckles appear to skim the ground. If he weren't so muscular, he would seem lanky. Perhaps adolescent awkwardness fired his training as it did mine.

Olaf kneels while Bristle jumps after his own tail, showering us with cold snow and hot slobber. Protecting my face, I kick Olaf in greeting. I can't abide his worship. He's too good a warrior to bow and scrape like a serf. There's a regrettable innocence behind his love. He doesn't care for advancement or reciprocation. I'm his ideal, and it's enough to slay my foes and savour my presence.

If Ashe tore down his goddess, he'd have nothing.

Sailing upright, as if my common strength could raise him, Olaf bellows. 'Chieftain! I'm thrilled to have you back.' He stretches out the word "thrilled" in that coarse, melodious accent of his, like he's adding a verse to the warsong of his life. 'Your men squabble like infants without leadership. I can bash their heads together but l'd sooner fight Ashe.'

Without leadership? Ancestors, I've been away too long. 'Where's Volibear?' I ask.

'He went looking for you by himself, the stubborn old fool!' Olaf seems to grow larger whenever he gets angry. There's a trick in his posture that I could... ugh, I've spent so much time analysing and emulating our male fighters. Old habits are like old wounds. 'He kept _me_ from your side while neglecting his role!'

'Do not reproach him. I was on a spiritual quest. Only he could see my trail.' That's not a falsehood, I guess.

Olaf brightens. 'Have you wrestled your purpose from death's clutches?'

'I've reclaimed _something._ The rest may follow... in time.'

'That is great news! My twin axes long for your direction! I will carve your name into a mountain of skulls!'

Bristle thumps the ground with joy as I climb aboard. It feels right, seeing the world from up here, whether due to familiarity or longsightedness. 'When did Volibear leave?'

Olaf counts on his fingers, muttering the names of the people he "disciplined". 'Ergh… four days ago? He'd been growling and pacing from dawn 'til dusk. Rolling thunder woke up the whole tribe when he left.'

I've been walking for just over two days. A frantic Volibear could reach Fjölnir Spire in… maybe half that time, give or take?

Realisation hits like an uppercut. Ashe, you magnificent bastard. 'Olaf?'

'Yes!'

'I want you to gather our forces and pressure the Avarosan. Attack their silos, their watchtowers. Burn down what you can. I want the cowards to know Sejuani is _back_ and will put up a fight with, or without, Volibear's protection. If you come across Udyr, have him run circles behind their lines. We're giving Tryndamere the worst week of his life. The massacre of his tribe will seem like a tavern brawl.'

'He will beg for death. It has forsaken him long enough!'

'I agree but, for now, bloody his nose and singe his beard. We can't risk blunting our claws.'

Olaf grins. 'Understood.' With all that hair surrounding his mouth, he bears an uncanny resemblance to a ginger Willump. I wonder if the berserkers of the Lokfar peninsula have yeti blood. 'If this conflict were too simple, there'd be no glory. Do you know where Volibear's gone? Battle's more fun with him biting people's heads off and hurling victims into my path.'

'No but I have my suspicions. Leave him to me.'

'Certainly. Death to our enemies! Victory to the Winter's Claw! Hail Sejuani, true queen of the Freljord!' He carries on shouting random phrases while he runs off to convey my words. I never wanted to be a "queen" but Olaf isn't one for details. If it sounds good at high volume, that's enough. Bristle gives a loud snort of bemusement.

Olaf doesn't realise but he stands for a lot of people. I judge their thoughts, morale and approval by watching him. If my relationship with Ashe became public, I would smother the dreams of a nation. I could spin justifications out of moonlight, reframe ideals, or kill opposition but real acceptance lies beyond my doing. Ashe would have to prove _herself_.

As I turn Bristle northwards, I worry that she already has.

* * *

Once again, I scale Volibear's holy mountain. I've likely made enemies by forcing entry. Fear of comeback, and faith in divine punishment, opened a way to the summit. I feel my bones ache with the damp. It was notable when I heaved a stronger body up this rocky path. Now the mist is like an ocean. I cough as each breath drenches my lungs. Am I not welcome? By Volibear's tell, the storm favoured me. How fickle are these powers?

A deafening roar and flash of light heralds an aggressive downpour. Shielding my gaze from the sting of rain, I carefully watch my footing as the trail becomes a river. The surge buffets my still-tender ankle. I splay myself across the mountain face, gripping with both hands. Onwards, I climb, step by step, as the wall slowly merges with the path.

I reach a familiar plateau. The crazed web of electricity, miles into the sky, blurs into a pale sun through the waterfall. Questioning my wisdom, I gulp in awe and… salt? How is that possible?

Unless… the storm is _crying_. Oh, Volibear, forgive me!

Yelling with all my strength, I raise my fist. 'I have come to save your chosen! Bestow your vision upon me!' There is no response. 'I have seen through the veil. Strike me as you once did. I am not afraid!'

A bolt smashes into my raised arm like a hammer. All I know is pain, white, ringing pain.

* * *

A new sensation… green… I… I'm here…. the precipice of reality, where Kalista returned life to my soulless form. I… think I'm crossing over.

Am I dead? I feel an anchor… my body, waiting to receive me… or is that a delusion?

I've changed… into…

Where am I?

* * *

Before me is Volibear, lashed with enough wood, rope and iron to build a ship. I know this place well, Ashe's dungeon, where she kissed me, striking a bell that echoes to this day. Without human constraints, I view the cell from every plane at once. I am a fly on the wall, a roach on the floor, dust upon shackles, a giant, holding a cage for inspection. As we learn to combine pictures from two different eyes, I form a composite image of the cell.

Ashe enters with calm assurance, long strides in a short skirt. All her practical armour has been replaced with her provocative battledress. Toying with her magical knife, she closes the door with her back. She's not wearing my bracelet anywhere. For a second, I'm devastated. Thinking logically, she must be hiding it from Volibear. There's no way he'd accept her explanation for its presence.

Her eyelids are drawn with cold focus but I'm fluent in her body's language. There is need, insecurity, apprehension, regret. Her knee, raised in a gesture of nonchalance, hides a nervous twitch, a foot rubbing her calf.

She never stops. Her intelligence and skill must arise from every doubt she casts inward. Once I bore my own weakness and regained a portion of strength, I also realised how Ashe's personal frailties, her paranoia, guilt and self-denial, were the seeds of her power.

She has no faith in others, which convinced her of the fake promise of law and civilisation… but also gave her self-reliance and authority.

She weighs the consequences of her might, which taught her mercy… but also strategy.

She swallows her desire, which drove her to become two women… but also one with her crystalline bow.

When she talks, Volibear can't reply, courtesy of a steel bit on his gums. How curious that oral violation by a piece of metal has gradients of humility. Ninety degrees make all the difference. 'The Frost Queen's Claim…' she indicates her weapon. 'You'd think it was made for me. Sadly, its function is poetic rather than practical.' Ashe twirls the blade, fails to catch it and laughs when it rattles across the floor. 'See? I can't even sharpen arrows.'

That's a lie. She's either boasting of an armoury that serves all her needs or meddlesome Avarosa's boon of enchanted missiles. My great-mother, Serylda, knows better than to slur _my_ competence with aid.

'It has one use though, one little spell that _anyone_ can throw.' Regaining her poise, Ashe flicks her wrist at Volibear. 'Did you know my greatest fear, walking alone through the depths of the Freljord? _You_, seeking to avenge your precious girl... but you can't kill what you can't catch. All I had to do was slow… you… down. Before leaving, I'd sent a patrol, unaware of my plans, within hawkshot range. They dragged you here while your body was in torpor.'

Volibear's wounds have healed. Only a few glowing puncture marks indicate his brush with death. I wonder if the downpour of rain happens whenever the storm intervenes.

'I'm glad you survived. Your recovery never fails to impress but I had to put more stock in your faith than I'd have liked.' He growls in anger at Ashe's inappropriate worry for a mortal foe. 'Yes, I know. You've got a thousand lectures to give me. You'll get your chance… but right now? You have to _listen_. We both know what happened to Sejuani but I have sources you don't. Anivia says that our greedy Kalista has a material presence, deep within the Shadow Isles.'

Volibear is now hanging on every word.

'I'm going to restore Sejuani… but I'm told you need a "heavy soul" to be safe in Kalista's realm and… I don't have one.' Her disappointment is clear. 'Tryndamere is ideal but, after our last encounter with Lissandra, I'm not risking both our lives on the same journey. _My_ staying is out of the question.' Ashe gives a little smirk, as though stating the obvious. 'Anivia qualifies but the Shadows Isles are one of the few lands where she can truly die. Even _I_ can't ask her to give up millennia. That leaves _you_…'

She lays a hand on Volibear's heart, using her touch, like always, to foist her will, to seduce or intimidate. I think it would just enrage Volibear.

'Come with me. The two of us can save her. Keep your blessing. Ancestors know I'm undeserving. All I want is to restore the woman I love… no politics… no games…' Ashe tears the bit from Volibear's mouth. Drool spatters across the floor. 'And if I prove otherwise, you can take my life!' He swallows and breathes without impediment. Whether he can speak or not, I can't say. 'That's my proposal. I don't expect your answer now. Tomorrow, you can leave, unharmed… or we can leave, together.'

The door closes behind Ashe. Her footsteps recede. Finally, Volibear speaks. 'I know you're here, Sejuani,' he says. I'm shocked enough that I can't think of a way to communicate. 'You shouldn't have climbed the mountain. I can use the storm as an extension of myself to see farther, which is why we're talking now, but _your_ senses have to leave your body. You're… effectively dead until you go back.'

I try to form an answer but it's unclear. Was I hasty because I felt worried, inquisitive, enraged? Am I simply taking a fair gamble to win priceless intelligence?

Volibear chuckles. 'All of them, probably.'

The words leap forth. 'Talking is that easy?'

'With me, yes. I'd keep a firm grasp on your internal monologue if I were you.'

'That bird's already flown.'

'True.' Volibear sighs. 'I'm glad you're back in one piece but you might have done irreparable damage to our coalition. You _have_ to tell my circle about your projection. If you're a shaman, you have nature's permission to be up there, whether they like it or not.'

'A shaman? What's happening to me?'

'You've somehow… caught spiritual magic from your repeated exposure to the beyond. Once that door's open, your elemental powers may find expression through the same channel. If so, you'll begin to feel magic again, except this time you'll have _both_ schools to control, divine _and_ physical. I don't think there's a precedent for that… Udyr, perhaps, but all his magic is by proxy.'

'Strange… I…' lowering a curtain, I spare the details of my time with Ashe. 'I regained a portion of my strength by facing my… weakness. Have I discovered a pattern… a design for life?'

'Harmony comes from difference, not unison. You've become an expression of that ideal. Even if your superstitious followers balk at serving a magic user, that may be a necessary test of their courage. Those who wish for a "safe", unchanging world can serve Ashe for all I care.'

The irony is delectable. 'Yes, they can serve the most dangerous woman I know.' Volibear falls quiet. I think he's listening out for reasons to punish her. 'You're going, aren't you?'

'Of course, I have to make sure that Ashe doesn't work this to her advantage… and this could be my only chance of getting back your soul. If we lost you for my scruples, I would _never_ forgive myself.'

'You and Ashe are more alike than you suspect.' Volibear flinches at the comparison. '_Atonement_ is her vice. In her darkest hour, she will scream for death, and she has the means to provoke you. Just remember that I've already condemned her to life.'

'Okay,' says Volibear, 'then I will be a cruel sun, rather than her executioner.'

'Thank you.'

The walls blink out of existence. 'Your tether's weakening.' He screws up his glowing eyes. 'Dear cub, I'll miss you.'

Waves of pure sorrow crash into my perception. Has he given up on returning? I have to make this last. 'Hold on, Volibear, I …'

'No, you'll do yourself irreparable harm if you resist. I… ugh!' Sparks fly as he clamps down with his massive jaws. 'I've got a leash.' Volibear no longer talks. A ghostly resonance takes over. 'Tell me one thing. Do you still love her?'

'More than ever.'

'That is all I have to know.' Volibear doesn't seem happy but… resolved. I hope he's not planning to lay down his life for Ashe. One of us has to put our side first. When I try to object, he feigns a bad signal. 'Do you not find it curious?'

'Wh… What?'

'Ashe begged our co-operation from the start. We may have stumbled into her peaceful endgame. However, the first person to cross over was not you… but me.'

'Volibear, please, I'd rather you abandoned me than took responsibility for a grim future!'

'_You_ are my future.' He looks up, as though searching for my visage within clouds of brick. 'Whatever shape it might take.'

I journey through the skies, across the ground, through limbo, twilight, along one path, another, between. I wake on a high mountain beneath low fog, and wonder how it all came to be… that I warrant such ardour…

That a broken, divided woman shone brighter than a faultless machine of war.


	18. Faith - Prologue & Chapter 1

_Ashe_

* * *

**Faith – Prologue**

Is this how it ends?

I felt so passionate, so alive, that I was ready to cross the darkest ocean. I'd liberate Sejuani's soul from Kalista.

But I fell at the first ditch.

...

The Freljord is impoverished and war-torn. Survival's our primary concern. Trade is poor. There are treasures deep within our mines but we can't retrieve them while defences crumble and farms burn.

Our prospective wealth is an asset when brokering long term. If we're to hire a ship, we need to pay _now_. The journey to the Shadow Isles is expensive, high risk and low reward. Relics of dubious worth will hardly tempt mercenaries. Giving up our priceless artefacts for a song would shame our ancestors and undo all my efforts to reclaim our heritage.

Restoring Sejuani's a huge risk. She may cast aside our love and renew her assault. Our dim future may have to rise from the ashes of our glorious past.

Life is just one betrayal after another.

...

Two weeks ago, Sejuani and I had betrayed our followers with a secret rendezvous. It nearly killed us both.

Lost in the wilds, I became a predator. I forced Sejuani's beliefs upon her weakened form. Afterwards, I discovered she'd given up her soul to rescue me from Lissandra.

My guilt was nearly fatal. Sejuani saw no crime to forgive.

We parted, as once and maybe future lovers.

...

A concerned Volibear had followed Sejuani's trail. I captured him with misdirection, wit and foresight. We needed someone's divine power to brave the Shadow Isles. Luckily, Volibear cared for Sejuani more than he hated me… for now.

Tryndamere wanted Volibear locked up, in case word reached our foes, but I'd already promised otherwise. Conveniently, Volibear chose to settle in a cave, out of sight. Financing our trip was beyond him. He saw no reason to get involved when he could exercise in peace.

* * *

**Faith – Chapter 1**

I don't know what drove me to Volibear's cave. I shouldn't seek his approval like a child, and Sejuani's her own woman.

Yet here I am, watching him train. He dances with a boxer's agility. His punches blur like the wings of an insect. Every jab is a little hurricane.

He regards me with animal indifference. If his words are any indication, he wears his heart openly, but Ursine faces remain a mystery to me.

Volibear says, 'You're not wearing your perfume. I hope you've not forsworn it for my benefit.'

'Simple neglect, I'm afraid. You'll have to suffer my natural stench.'

'All I can smell is alcohol. I presume you're here to whine about your impotence, rather than discuss our journey.'

'Drinking helps me get things done.' Until I have regular sex, or the freedom to take long walks through ancient ruins, I need alcohol and archery to soothe my nerves. Today, I woke up with an aching shoulder, which left one option.

'Yet you've achieved nothing.'

'And you have?'

'I'm preparing for battle.' He warms down by tilting his neck and rolling his joints. 'Far more productive than sullying my body and spirit.'

I sit in his cave, out of the wind. 'Raise the money quicker and I'll gladly take your criticism. Until then, I'd appreciate your patience.'

'How can I be patient while my cub suffers?' He turns his back on me. 'You were always a decadent fool but I never considered you _weak_. Sejuani deserves better.'

He's told me that several times. If I concur then I'm a self-pitying fool who should up her game. If I disagree then I'm a deluded fool, expecting others to believe her lies. No doubt, Volibear is the biggest fool in Valoran for trusting me.

There's a novel charm to his candour. It's a welcome change from bootlicking. Even Tryndamere's mockery feels like indulgence, not rebellion, a pat on the head for a dangerous little sister he was obliged to fuck against his will.

I'm getting foul-mouthed in my old age. Actually, no, I've always been foul-mouthed. I just had a phase when I pretended otherwise.

I say, 'There's only one choice. I'll have to gather artefacts and hope they're worth passage to the Shadow Isles.'

'If there's only one choice then make it.'

'I promised my tribe I'd restore their glory, their history, not sell it for my personal relations.'

'You think Sejuani has no meaning apart from you?' The ground shakes from his bellow. He's worked up and limber. I've no traps or magic items ready. Should he attack, I'm defenceless.

'To my people, no, she doesn't. I'm crossing thousands for her sake. Do you think I should do that lightly? She wouldn't. She never stops thinking of her people, even when she's with me.'

'That responsibility weighs upon us all. I'm supposed to be a moral compass for my sleuth, yet I betrayed them because I stupidly thought you were capable of the same!' He rakes a paw across his face. 'I have damned myself and you fret over breaking a nail.'

'Do you know how much blood is on my hands?' I climb to my feet. 'If you knew half of what I'd done, you'd…'

_Ashe…_

I know that voice. 'Avarosa?' My great-mother listens but rarely talks. While I focus, I hear the question in Volibear's tone, but not his words.

_Your past should be a source of strength, not a burden. Everyone can find redemption, child._

Am I hallucinating? A Demacian eagle crosses the sky. A mistake has returned to haunt me.

'Volibear, we've got company!' I conjure my hawk spirit, and my senses project. Scrambling through the drifts in awkward flight is a familiar human, small, skittish and hunched over so deep, they could be running on all-fours. While inconvenient for me, this could be our lucky break. 'South-west, three-hundred yards, I want her _alive_!'

Clouds of snow trail Volibear's charge. He's used to fulfilling orders, even if I'm giving them. The eagle screeches a warning and plunges to guard his companion but Volibear is too quick. By the time I've caught up, he's tackled his prey.

In one paw, he holds the eagle named Valor. The bird is awe-inspiring, with prodigious wings and indigo plumage. During our futile negotiations with Prince Jarvan, Valor had roamed freely, sparing us the pleasure of his excitable company. Volibear keeps him at arm's length, while sitting astride a young woman, recently dragged over the threshold of adulthood.

As I draw near, her golden eyes crease in adoration. 'Ashe! Um…' She glances at Volibear. 'Your Majesty?' She chews on her lip while assessing protocol. 'I know I shouldn't be here but… er… this isn't what it looks like, seriously.'

Volibear says, 'Do you know this girl?'

Yes, I know Quinn. I know her in every sense of the word.

Sejuani's aware that I slept with Quinn but, for now, Sejuani's only demand is that I don't have children. Affairs are fine, supposedly, but Volibear doesn't know that. When I persuaded him to join my quest, I swore that he could take my life, should I prove unfaithful. I craft my response. 'Quinn is a Demacian scout, celebrated hero, and about the only person from that country who can hold a normal conversation.'

My heart breaks for Quinn. Our entanglement was possibly the most real event of her short life. She doesn't appreciate how love can be written out of history, like anything else. I'm sorry, Quinn, but I can't risk Volibear's wrath.

His jaws overshadow her tiny skull. 'Hmm… so Jarvan couldn't disown her?'

'No…' For once, Volibear and I think as one. 'And even if he were the kind of man to sell out a loyal servant, he has an image to uphold.'

'Would he pay for her safe return?'

Quinn squirms away from Volibear. She says, 'Uh… Ashe? What's going on?'

I remain strong. 'Shouldn't I be asking that question? You're the one trespassing.'

'It's not like that!' says Quinn. 'I… I know I betrayed you but…'

Volibear's fur crackles. 'A Demacian wronged your tribe, Ashe? Why have you not leveraged this?'

I offer the truth. 'Because I'm also at fault, however much Quinn might protest.'

When I don't elaborate, Volibear says ominously, 'That is a needless and unhelpful admission, especially from a renowned strategist.'

'I'm as idiotic as anyone, Volibear. Quinn got me drunk while I was trying to get information out of her. She reported my babbling to Jarvan. You shouldn't believe all of Sejuani's praise.'

Quinn gasps. 'You're Volibear?' She must have assumed he was a lone defector, not second in command of my opposition.

He says, 'Do the spy's job for her, why not? Yes, I'm Volibear, chosen of the storm, and your flapping friend is trying my patience.'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Bear. Valor doesn't like being held.'

'It's _Voli_bear!' he roars. 'If my name were Caedman, would you say "Mr. Man"?'

I suppress a chuckle at Volibear's outburst and Quinn's lack of grace. After all she's been through, Quinn's retained her ingenuous charm, as dangerous a lure as anything in this world. She begins apologising at length. Before Quinn's hasty contrition angers Volibear further, I say, 'What _are_ you doing here?'

She catches my gaze and looks away. 'Um… it's kind of personal.'

I'd assumed from our last exchange that Quinn was on course to get over me, though she may be playing up her infatuation to mislead us. I can't appraise her without help, and Volibear isn't helping. When I don't press the subject, he says, 'This is maddening. Ashe, I don't expect a fine rendering of your political web. We're still at war. Just answer me this. Does her obfuscation mean something to you?'

'Maybe.'

'This is like eating a pinecone. Will it prevent us from ransoming her?'

'No.' I gather my resolve. 'Quinn, I'm sure there's a good reason for your presence but we have a situation, and your capture might free a noble soul from endless torment.'

She changes instantly from girl to fierce knight. I thought she'd like that. 'If decent lives are at stake, I'll come willingly.'

Volibear relaxes, having recognised something he can respect. He releases both prisoners.

Valor behaves, though he hovers close enough to create a draft. Quinn seems like she's fighting the urge to hug me. This isn't good. I have to keep my distance. 'Your cell may be less comfortable than our guest wing.'

'At least I'll match the décor.' She picks at her travel-stained outfit. 'I guess a bath's out of the question.'

Volibear says, 'I wouldn't object. Your noses may not function but I'm choking. You'll need a crowbar to get her out of that armour.'

Quinn look mortified. I want to hold her close and whisper gentle assurance, that I still find her attractive. What was Volibear thinking? For all our differences, I considered him one of nature's gentlemen. Just as I begin to voice my disappointment, I sense danger.

Volibear does nothing lightly. He suspects our relationship and his observation was bait. I force tepid words through my clenched anxiety. 'We've all spent time in the field. I'll have Braum arrange a tub and some fresh clothes.'

'Thank you,' says Quinn. She wants more but I can't be so much as kind.

We head back in fraught silence. Only Valor seems comfortable. There's a wordless eloquence to his motion. I'm beginning to see how Quinn "talks" with him. Perhaps her loneliness carries like a plague.


	19. Faith - Chapter 2

**Faith – Chapter 2**

The logistics of our journey to Demacia prove simple. Volibear can load enough provisions to feed a village. We've allowed him access to the castle, under the supervision of Braum and Gragas. I pray their combined mass doesn't sink our foundations.

To carry Sejuani's soul back from the Shadow Isles, Anivia's gifted us one of her eggs. Apparently it should operate as a vessel, provided the subject enters of their own free will.

Tryndamere's energetic and experienced enough to manage crises while I'm abroad. Anivia's good with details. They should work well together.

So far, so good. Unfortunately, my plans are built on thin ice.

* * *

Tryndamere questions my wisdom as we descend into the gloom. 'I get you want to play nice, but Quinn sold you out. Why not just eat Valor, chain Quinn to Volibear, then peel strips off her until Jarvan caves?'

'We'll need her influence to safeguard us. Otherwise, we'll disappear, mid-voyage.'

'What influence do you think she has? Do you buy Sejuani's mad theory that Jarvan's grooming her? Queen Quinn, just say it out loud. _Queen Quinn_.'

'A name can be changed. Officially, they could use "Catherine" to go with Jarvan's mother.'

'That's wrong enough to be true. Demacians are into family... but women fucking women? Shucking oysters? Those are a bridge too far.'

'What does "shucking oysters"…? Ugh, forget it.' I hope it doesn't involve knives. That's too close to home. 'Even if Quinn's not a candidate for the throne, she's Jarvan's token peasant and a decorated war hero. People would listen to her.'

'She can barely speak.' Our footsteps echo as the dungeon walls grow damp. 'I'll just assume we need Quinn because _you_ need Quinn. Do you need Valor? We don't know what he's capable of.'

'Quinn's our only source of knowledge regarding Valor. Until we know otherwise, we should treat him as her weapon. He may be more, but we can't waste time on what we can't foresee.'

'That eagle's got shifty eyes. There's every chance he'll act on his own.' Tryndamere winks. 'You know what? I'll clip his wings. You claim ignorance. Use him as a hostage.'

'We can't use them against each other. They might as well be twins. I can't think of a quicker path to betrayal.'

'They can talk without words. I think betrayal's guaranteed whether you're kind or not.'

As we near the foot of the stairwell, I hesitate. 'You really don't think I have a prayer, do you?'

'Not if you don't press your advantage.'

'What advantage?'

'You know what I mean. You're the one thing Demacia can't offer. Let her think she has a chance to keep you.'

My breath catches. Romantic flight is an alluring fantasy, the promise of love, peace and liberty for those who can endure the guilt. Yet, escape is impossible. Every morning you wake up in your new life, your new shadow lengthens.

I say, 'Quinn isn't stupid. She knows we can't be together.' The thought of lowering my guard, and exposing myself to her passion, fills me with dread. I may be the one to lose control.

'What she knows and what she feels are two different things. If you're serious about rescuing Sej, you may have to draw blood.'

'I'm sick of compromise and sacrifice.' With an actress's turn, I march to the door. 'From this day forth, we…'

My sinews bulge as I heave across two massive bars.

'Just…'

A mighty push.

'_Win_.'

I gaze triumphantly into the corridor. The theatre's over.

Tryndamere looks askance, like I've just sunk an entire keg of mead in front of him. 'Okay, sounds like a plan. Are we good?'

'Yes,' I lie. 'Now mind what you say. Her ears are better than ours.'

* * *

We descend. There's no more debate. All I can hear is the clanging of Tryndamere's armour. Because of Quinn's value, we had to use the deepest oubliette in our castle, the same place I kissed Sejuani for the first time. Hopefully, the memories will deter me from drooling over Quinn.

I pound on the hatch. 'Quinn? It's Ashe. Are you decent?'

I hear scuffling, like a puppy's tail sweeping the floor. 'Yes!'

Tryndamere smirks. 'Disappointed?'

'Not as much as she'll be.'

The cell opens.

We've made her comfortable with torches, blankets and extra furniture but our stone walls remain oppressive. You can still see the chains. Amidst all the trappings of icy power, stands one little farm girl, eager to please.

Quinn glows with pastoral charm, or maybe her skin's a little raw from exposure to the cold. She's loosely dressed in a clean tunic and britches from our stores. I can see the bathtub we provided, yet her locks remain a filthy purple nest. I know she's coy regarding her natural hair colour but I hope she's washed from the neck down. Others may be less indulgent of her coarse edges. Not everyone will be drawn close enough to know her…

I yelp as Tryndamere knuckles my ribcage. Feeling embarrassed and helpless, I watch as he takes the lead. 'I'm Tryndamere, king of these parts.' He offers a hairy hand, like a yeti's paw.

She gingerly takes it. I _feel_ the crunch when he squeezes. 'I… I'm Quinn, a scout for the kingdom of Demacia.' Her back arches in retreat. She totters like a flagpole in a storm.

Tryndamere steadies Quinn by grabbing her shoulder, which only makes her panic worse. 'The Freljord welcomes you, though I guess my formidable queen has already given you the grand tour. She prefers the kind of women you can't bring home.'

Quinn blinks with confusion. 'Oh… so you're…?'

'Fine with it? Hah! When I'm not cleaning up her mess.' I've imposed on him a lot, in peace and war. He gets a loving roll of the eyes, but I'll spare him a comeback. 'We don't share spit or blood, only this country, but Ashe is all the family I've got left, and I'll break your legs if you break her heart.'

I step in before Quinn runs away, leaving a dismembered arm in Tryndamere's grasp. 'Thank you, but I can fight my own battles, dear husband.'

'Ah, this ain't fighting. I'm showing I care.' He grins at her like a wolf. 'See? Quinn gets it.'

Frantically, she nods. I shoo him away. 'Please, one Volibear's bad enough.' My poise restored, I say to Quinn, 'Tryndamere knows everything. We can talk openly.'

She covers her torso. 'He…? No, that's fair. I tattled first.'

'You did.' I shuffle closer. 'Having said that…' I mouth a warning at Tryndamere then throw my arms wide. 'I'm really happy to see you again.'

Quinn skips, then lunges, wrapping us in a tight embrace. Her tiny, powerful body, hard as a rock, encircles me like a golem's fist. I pat her back and lightly kiss her temple, sisterly gestures to express boundaries but she won't let go. Desperate, I signal Tryndamere for help. He obliges. 'Are girly shows normal in Demacia? You guys brought the wrong entertainment.'

His vulgar comment dislodges Quinn. She casts evil glances in his direction while I recover. Quinn's growing, little by little. Soon, she'll do more than push me off guard. I have to be careful, no more hugs.

I wonder. Is this how Sejuani feels about me, sharp edges within a soft shell? My depths are bare to her, while I feel so blind. I truly miss her. Without her challenging opinions, raw perception and unfailing acceptance, I'm seeing the world through one eye. Despite Sejuani's poorly buried, and sometimes adorable, jealousy, I think she'd grow to like Quinn. I hope so because, in a strange way, Quinn's part of me, the manifestation of my weakness.

Quinn asks, 'You seem distant. Is everything all right?'

I have to stay present. 'We've got issues. I'll come to them. You just…' I smile, genuinely flustered. 'I'm a little overwhelmed.'

She beams. Why do her teeth sparkle like that? Is there something in Demacian lakes? 'Oh, I feel the same. You know, I didn't think I'd get to… hold someone again.'

I hear Quinn's pent-up longing. So her crush remains, and it's mutual enough that I'm feeding it. I have to be responsible. 'I know. It's always a struggle, but you will find others.'

Tryndamere says, 'You're a fine-looking lass. You'll have plenty of rough and tumble if you keep your head up. Ashe did all right with her sour puss.'

Quinn's not assured. 'Um… thanks, I guess.'

We have to move on. 'Quinn, I'm always happy to see you, but you're trespassing on our lands without consent. What are you doing?'

'It's kind of personal.'

I hope she's not here without Jarvan's blessing. It would weaken our hand. 'You've given up the chance to be coy by not revealing yourself.'

'I'm sort of on reconnaissance but I'm really here as… penance, I guess?'

'You're in exile?'

'Exile's too strong a word. I can go back when I feel ready,' Quinn says, 'Though His Majesty will expect an account of my growth.'

Tryndamere says, 'A rite of passage, when a boy journeys through the wilderness to become a man. I didn't realise the Demacians went for such.'

'Only highborn, typically,' says Quinn.

Sejuani's prediction grows likelier. Quinn is undergoing a knight's trial, perhaps even a queen's trial. I say, 'This punishment seems like an honour.'

Tryndamere butts in. 'Duty's an old way to dispense with trouble. You send a rival on a dangerous mission, watch them die then praise their courage. You survived enough plotting, Ashe. Come on.'

I bristle at his contradiction. 'Our corner of the Freljord isn't exactly hostile. Surely, Jarvan would send her to Noxus if your example had _any_ relevance?'

Quinn says meekly, 'Um, you've both got a point. I'm sure His Majesty wouldn't off me quietly but he's really disappointed. I got a massive lecture. He said I was "irresponsible, insolent and immoral" for "brazenly fornicating" while "on display to the world". After he calmed down, he… said he was wrong to leave a child unsupervised, which felt even worse.'

I say, 'You're not a child. You're old enough to kill for him.'

'Ooh, he set me off a treat. I shouted that I was a blooded woman who deserved acknowledgement as one. I must have repeated myself a dozen times while he watched with that jousting expression of his.'

Narrow stare, diagonal brow, pursed lips, endless chin. 'I know it well.'

'It was up all the time when he was in your palace. It was awkward. Even Xin Zhao got a bit weary.'

Tryndamere says, 'Jarvan seemed all right at first, like, unfriendly but relaxed enough. By the close of day two, his eyes were sunk right through to the back of his head. Something was off.'

To me, Jarvan was a brick wall. 'I didn't notice.'

'You had your face full of Quinn, here.'

She may blush. I've no dignity before Tryndamere. 'That I did. Was our company so tiresome?'

Quinn eagerly draws the subject away from our lovemaking. 'I don't think so. He was arguing with Lux. At one point, Shyvana had her by the throat. If it weren't for Garen keeping the peace, we may have seen blood.'

'Is that why Shyvana slept outside in dragon form?' I'd thought it was to keep us out.

'Yes.'

Tryndamere says, 'This is dangerous information. Why are you telling us? If this gets out, you'll weaken Demacia.'

Quinn grows defensive. 'No, you wouldn't… you couldn't use… I'm loyal! I swear I'm loyal!'

His challenge was a mistake. She'll never co-operate as a turncoat. I calm her down. 'Shush, it's okay. Sorry, Quinn, we weren't implying you...'

'No…' Her blinking slows. Quinn wavers between petulance and ferocity. 'There's no betrayal. I fight for the Demacian people and I fight for justice. Why should lovers pay for their secrets while schemers avoid rightful judgement! I'm fed up of it! We hide our bickering and our suffering and… we sweep everything under the rug and…' She runs out of language. 'I don't care if people know Lux oversteps or Shyvana bites or…'

Silence.

Before I can reply, Tryndamere seizes my arm. 'Ashe, a word?'

As I formulate an apology, Quinn says, 'If you have to go then go. Sorry for babbling, Ashe. You've listened enough.'

Quinn's due better. She deserves a pretty wife and a pretty farmstead, rather than this. My response is feeble. 'I wish the circumstances were different.' She looks at me, hopeful as a lark ascending. 'We'll be back soon.'

* * *

Quinn's heightened senses are preternatural, so we creep to the foot of the stairs. Tryndamere and I huddle, my face close to his armpit. He gives off little odour, just rock, salt and rust. According to him, I smell of mushrooms growing on wood.

'What is it?' I whisper.

Tryndamere says, 'I've been thinking. Jarvan wouldn't allow Quinn to sulk within earshot of you if there were questions about her loyalty, so her flapping tongue means one of two things.'

'Only two?'

'Keep it simple. Either she's a grown-up who's baiting you, or she's a kid who's throwing a tantrum. Pick one.'

Sometimes, Tryndamere's cudgel draws blood. 'You're asking me to damn one of us. If Quinn's trustworthy then I'm a cradle snatcher.'

'Pretty much, and you have to accept you fucked a kid and fucked her up. Whether you feel bad's up to you, but whatever you face, you'll be facing it with a damaged little girl who might let you down or stitch you up when you need her most.'

I become very small. 'Do you think I should feel bad?'

'We've both done worse. I'd say that's up to Quinn.'

She'd only make excuses for me. 'What do you think of her?'

'Not impressed. She's like any teenager, can't see past her own beak and sings without any thought of the consequences. At least you know when you're being a prat. If she were one of us, I could knock some sense into her, but she's Demacian. I think she'd cause you more trouble than Sej.'

'You're being unfair. I cause more trouble than both of them.'

'Attagirl. If I had to choose, I'd put a saddle on Sej and ride her all night long. Just looking at Quinn makes me go soft.'

'Yes, you've gone far enough.' I tug on his arm, leading us back. 'Am I really the only person who finds her attractive?'

'Well, I like my women to have tits and arse, normal stuff. Quinn looks like a boy.'

'We're not just…!' I give up. 'You don't think she has pretty eyes and lips?'

'Her eyes are creepy and I don't see lips until they're round my cock.'

'You're such a philistine.'

'Why, for not fucking little girls? Ask in five years-time when she's got some experience and flesh, then I'll judge.'

'You haven't seen her thighs.'

Tryndamere brightens. 'Oh, now you're talking. Remember Jarvan's dragon-whore?'

He knows I do, the bastard. 'Shyvana. She had a name. Quinn even said it.'

'Yeah, the half-dressed slut. You had some competition for once.'

'I'm going to kill you.'

'Tell me something I don't know.' Tryndamere has a faraway smile, as if he's contemplating a beautiful secret.

I'm disturbed enough that I change the subject. 'We've no choice. We have to gamble on Quinn.'

'I get it. You don't have to concede anything. Only promise me that you'll keep what I said in mind.'

'I will.'

* * *

Quinn was running circles in our absence. Her eyebrows are bright with sweat. Even when still, she's restless. I recall myself as a child, learning how to control all those unconscious, hyperactive little movements. A leader can't fidget.

I say, 'Quinn, I need your help.'

'Anything, Ashe!'

Tryndamere scolds her. 'Don't ever say that up front. You'll end up a liar, a villain or dead.'

She glares back. 'Or a Demacian.'

'You're Demacian already, kid, whatever Jarvan asks you to prove.'

Tryndamere's point is a kind one but insensitive. I say, 'We're losing focus. Do you know Kalista?'

'The Spear of Vengeance?' Quinn looks worried. 'Of course, there are temples to her in Demacia.'

Tryndamere and I react in unison. 'Really?'

'To some, she's the purest form of justice. I think Shyvana looks up to her as a female role-model.'

I ask, 'What about Jarvan?'

'He doesn't approve of Kalista. His Majesty says people can't aspire to good without failing once in a while. He… erm… jokes that he's damned for eternity by her standards.'

I don't think he's joking. 'Would Jarvan help us to defy Kalista?'

'Maybe not openly, but you'd have to ask him. What _is_ going on?'

'She has the soul of a woman I love.'

'Oh, the person you mentioned?'

'Yes, and it's my fault.' Quinn stumbles to console me. However, Tryndamere's presence divides us like a sword. All she can offer is, 'I'm so sorry.'

'Thank you but I've wasted enough time on self-hatred. I'm putting things right.' I reach the point of our conversation. 'We don't have any means of reaching the Shadow Isles but your country has an armada.'

'Not a mobile one.' Quinn scratches her head. 'We have big, lumbering warships. You need a scouting vessel. Don't get me wrong. I'll help, for sure, but His Majesty can't send a whole crew to save one person who's not even Demacian.'

'What if the person _was_ Demacian?'

Quinn's eyes bulge. 'A… a Demacian? Your love was a Demacian? But… who?' She looks utterly heartbroken. I recognise her pain. Quinn wants our transnational affair to be special, a chance miracle that she can remember fondly for the rest of her life.

I know because I'm thinking it as well. 'Quinn, I'm sorry, but we're talking about you.'

'Me? What are you planning?' She looks about for reassurance. 'Ashe?'

'You're my prisoner. Jarvan would give anything for your safe return, yes?'

'What? I'm just a nobody. His Majesty looks out for me but if I prove more trouble than I'm worth then…' she trails off.

'Jarvan sent you here, so he's responsible. You're part of his entourage, and your age and upbringing will attract sympathy. There's no way he could abandon you without losing face.' I appeal to my status. 'Believe me, Quinn, I've been leader of this tribe for over ten years. I've made enough mistakes. I know how these things work.'

'Won't he assume we're conspiring after… you know?'

'Is our affair public knowledge in Demacia?

'No.'

'So how could he act on it without causing a scandal?'

Quinn rubs her arm. 'I… I don't know. You're the politician. Like, you're going to drag me to Demacia and His Majesty's going to suspect us anyway, so I might as well play along.'

'I'd rather not force anyone but you've heard what's at stake.'

'Yes. Even if I didn't owe you for my betrayal, I'd…'

'You don't owe me anything.' She's already paid in blood. 'I took your honour, Quinn. We're more than even.'

'It wasn't enough.' Quinn's plain, girlish whimper feels mournful, possessive and _seductive_, innocence begging to be stolen, over and over…

Tryndamere clears his throat. I catch his gaze in silent thanks and say to Quinn. 'Our time together was precious but we have to move on.'

Quinn watches with open agony, like she's forcing herself to look into the sun. 'Okay,' she says. 'Give me a mission. What's our goal? Who is your love?'

This is it. I'm in free fall. Once I tell Quinn, she may tell Jarvan. He will know something my people don't. With that information, he could force my compliance or expose my treacherous heart.

I can't say this directly. The fear is too much. 'You may be questioning Volibear's presence.'

Quinn's perceptive enough to draw conclusions. 'No! How could…? I thought you were enemies! You asked for our help! Ashe, tell me you're lying!'

Tryndamere steps in. 'Our conflict ain't some lovers' tiff. I wouldn't have asked you to spill Demacian blood otherwise. Our whole way of life is an abomination to the Winter's Claw, and they'd wipe us out if they could. Whatever Sej feels ain't enough to keep her marauders off our lands, only enough to keep Ashe chained up in a harem.'

I go blank with rage. 'What the fuck do you know?! She…' My voice breaks, 'Would never do that. She wants an equal, not a slave. I'm the one who…' Shielding my face, I recall everything. I recall Sejuani's tears. I recall as I forced her to the ground with my knife and, 'Hurt her. She saved us all and I… poor Sejuani…'

Tryndamere guides me to sit against a wall. Through my shame, I hear him take over. 'She's been like this a while. The sole reason I don't veto her mission to rescue Sej is that we need Ashe. We _really_ need Ashe.

'Whatever her flaws, that emotional wreck is a genius. Did you know the Winter's Claw had three times our standing army to begin with? Ashe beat them back so hard, she _changed_ them. After centuries of promoting idiots through duels, they threw their lot in with a clever, charismatic outrider. Yeah, Sejuani's a pain. I'd rather she weren't leading our foes, but Runeterra needs a functioning Ashe more than a dead Sejuani. Help us through this and Ashe will, one day, surpass Jericho Swain. She may never be my wife but I'm proud to be her husband.'

Amazed, I look up through my fingers. 'Really? Do you really feel that?'

He laughs. 'Of course! Why else would I put off my vengeance? Why else would I look at your spotty backside and think of the Freljord? Ashe, babe, I told you this at our wedding. You never did listen to me.'

I smile. 'Bring a woman down, why not? I feel remiss enough.'

'Take it as a compliment. I think Sej likes you because you're the only girl more impossible than her.'

'There's truth in that.'

'I bet.'

While we chat, Quinn is unreadable. I'm scared at how quickly she can change from ingénue to operative. I reach out. 'I never wanted this war, Quinn, but Sejuani pushed it on us both. Love isn't enough. I have to prove myself in battle or…' Please let there be something else. Please.

Quinn looks at me like I've grown an extra head. 'She's killing your people. She's killing _you_. How can you love her?'

'Many reasons but what good is reason? If we could change, you and I would have an easier life. We could love men. We could love our kin. I could even love _this_ warthog.'

As if Tryndamere would leave that opening. 'Ooh, if I'm a warthog, I might have a chance with…'

Quinn ignores him. 'Would you change?'

'Would I? Before… yes, without hesitation… but I have too many wonderful memories to change now.'

'Same here.' Those two little words are like a prayer, solemn and thankful. 'Despite everything, she gave up her soul to save yours, right? Would we have met otherwise?'

Tryndamere says, 'No. Things were bad. Volibear and I make a habit of crawling out of the grave but I don't think Ashe has that luxury.'

Quinn says. 'That's all I have to know.' She kneels before me. 'Your Sejuani crossed enemy lines to bring us both to life. A servant of justice can do no less. Demacia's wings are at your disposal.'

Why does Quinn frame everything as an obligation or a contest? For such a little girl, she can be so _male_. And why say "disposal"? That's a horrible choice of word. 'I'm grateful but…' I yelp as Tryndamere crushes my shoulder. 'Sorry. There's no "but". I'm grateful.'

Quinn looks up. 'You needn't worry.' Her eyes flash. 'Danger's my calling.'

* * *

The bustle of our palace is a comfort upon leaving our dungeons. Tryndamere grumbles. 'What a mess.' I nod in agreement. 'I'm guessing she was a virgin? She's hung up on you, _badly_, and you're still sweet on her. That's not the end of the world but you have to play her like a flute. If you lose your grip, she'll go mad with jealousy and ruin everything. She might even kill Sejuani.'

'Quinn wouldn't. She's…'

'Demacian. Remember, Sejuani's evil by their standards. You have to consider the possibility Quinn will do "what's best" and you'll have to choose between them.'

'I care for them both but I'm in love with Sejuani, not Quinn.'

Tryndamere looks amazed, as if I'd said something outlandish. 'Ah…' His frown softens. 'I forget sometimes. You're not that experienced.'

'What? You said yourself there were rumours. Make up your mind. If I'm as promiscuous as you claim, I'll have the respect I'm due.'

'How many girls were you serious about?'

I ball my fists. 'You know I couldn't have been serious!'

'None before Sejuani?'

'Do you think I don't understand love because all I had was private and fleeting?'

'I don't think you know the long, visible kind.'

'And you do?'

'Maybe not personally, but I grew up _with_ my tribe.' His expression clouds with grief. 'I saw families and relationships evolve. I saw them outlast wandering eyes, tragedies, children… bastard children… while were you tramping through ancient ruins, getting your fingers wet, and scheming your way to power.' Before I can reply, he says, 'No criticism. I respect your balls. You did what you had to. The point is you've never known love as a journey, just a shelter.'

Tryndamere's no priest or scholar but loss teaches wisdom, and few people have lost so much. 'Do you think I'm capable of the long, visible kind?'

'Eh…'

'That's enough. I'll find out for myself.'


	20. Faith - Chapter 3

**Faith – Chapter 3**

I'm indistinguishable from any vagrant, sat on a cold step. Only now does it sink in. I may never see this land again.

I've been leading it for over ten years. The future cries to be delivered. An impossible quest is a good way to leave the stage, if I must.

I hear a familiar tread. Again, Tryndamere bothers my shadow. Solitude will be scarce while travelling. I'm unsure if I wish to see him. Before I can decide, he says, 'You're in my spot.'

'Excuse me?'

'This is my spot. If I get cabin fever but can't leave the grounds, this is where I come.'

'So _this_ is where you hide? You're going to regret telling me that.'

'Yeah, so I'm enjoying my freedom while it lasts.'

Everything falls to him soon. I'm asking a lot. 'I think there's room for two, provided you keep your thighs together.'

'First time for us both, hey?' He perches his meaty hips on the slab. With all the space he requires, he might as well be crouching. I still find his touch eerily cool. Maybe he locks up his heat for when he carves up his foes. 'I don't want you to go,' he says plainly.

'You know I can't leave Sejuani to her fate.'

'I'm happy to fight in your place. Just say the word and I'll join Volibear and Quinn. It'll be fun, rather than awkward.'

'Would you let another man save your princess?'

'Why do you think I'm trying to spare my queen from an early grave?'

That's almost romantic. A shame I need optimism rather than gallantry. 'Could you not? I'm terrified enough.'

'Not like you'll get any hard realism off a shaman or a Demacian.' Tryndamere sharply turns my jaw to face him. 'Please, you have to let Volibear cross the Shadow Isles alone. I think Anivia's right for once. Your soul will come loose without a mooring.'

I stare him down. 'You know I can't. I have to prove myself. Our country depends on it.'

'You're stubborn, Ashe, but I don't think Volibear and Sej will accept anything short of a trouncing. Even if they come around, your hero's quest won't sway their people and you know it.' I don't yield. Eventually, he sighs and releases me. 'Forget it. You know my thoughts already. So… "princess"… that her pillow name?'

I can't suppress my grin. 'She doesn't object.'

'Aw, think I understand you both a little better.' He ruffles my hood. 'For what it's worth, I like your princess but I'm unconvinced she'll ever be happy. The Winter's Claw mess children up. You'll have to pry their thorns out of her bleeding heart, one by one, 'til there's only scar tissue left. I think she'd rather go down as a warrior than be walking wounded.'

'She kept insisting I was obliged to crush a helpless enemy.' I shudder. 'Poor thing.'

'Literally or…' Tryndamere raises an eyebrow.

'Mind out of the gutter!'

He doesn't laugh. 'No fooling, Ashe. I feel sorry for her. Sounds like she'd rather choose death than accept what she wants.'

'I think we both would.' I trace the scar across my belly. After forcing Sejuani's principles down her throat, I'd almost perished to my guilt.

'You have to keep going for the fallen and the living.'

'I'll… no promises, but I'll try.' Coming from Tryndamere, that simple idea feels profound. I'm glad something other than revenge inspires him. 'But if I don't come back, I'm sorry that I wasn't a better wife. You have needs and I've been selfish, chasing women while you've endured in silence.'

'No worries. I count myself lucky to feel anything at all. Ever since…' Tryndamere gazes like a statue. 'When you've seen every girl who taught you to be a man… every girl who pulled you off, hoisted her skirt… when you've seen them in pieces with their brains and entrails all over the snow like vomit, you kind of lose interest. I still notice women but I'm glad I have an excuse not to lay them. You try to come with all that in your head. I can't.'

'I never realised it was that bad.'

'Of course you didn't. I prefer to get on rather than dwell. These things have a way of sorting themselves out. Even if they don't, I'm alive.'

'You deserve more than just life.' Tryndamere shrugs in response. 'It's funny. My trauma barely touches yours but I can already feel it having an opposite effect. I'm growing… ravenous.'

'What you're going through seems like fun but I guess the hunting's always better on the other side.'

'Let's hope that applies to the Shadow Isles.'

'You sure you don't want me to go?' Tryndamere says eagerly.

'How many times do I have to say "Yes"?'

'A hundred? I don't know. Just come back to me alive, all right? You're the only thing in this messed up world I truly care about.'

I feel awful. Our arrangement is denying a good wife his devotion. I kiss him on the cheek. 'Thank you, but what about our people? Do you feel nothing for them?'

'I don't resent them and I won't abdicate if that's why you're asking. As long as they need a musclebound ogre with a big sword, massive cock and sexy mane, I'm happy to serve. Do you think I'd leave them at Anivia's mercy? Her nagging would achieve more than Sej and Liss combined.'

'You're happy to serve? Are you sure that's enough?'

'It is. I have a decent life and a purpose. Do you know how many people dream of that? I may not have chosen such a role – the beard of an ambitious queen – but it's okay, far better than eating snow and seeking revenge. You turned out all right, Ashe. I think we're both learning to make the best of our marriage.'

The sun is rising. I've tarried enough. 'Are you coming to see me off?'

'Sure, a bit of ceremony will soften the blow.' He stretches. 'Just watch yourself in Demacia. Keep Volibear within arm's reach at all times. If he's got a problem, he'll come at you straight. I can't say the same about Quinn.'

'You really don't like her, do you?'

'Honestly, no. She's got nothing, no tits, no character. She's nothing but a sign of your drinking and frustration.'

What does this world have against Quinn? I can't be the only one who appreciates her. 'Tryndamere, please. I know I'm a hypocrite, and I asked your opinion, but if you have nothing more charitable, I'd appreciate your silence.'

'Okay,' says Tryndamere. 'Then I'll promise you this. If you're right about Quinn, and she comes through, then I'll kiss her feet and apologise to her face.'

'You would have to put on a show. You'll have audiences every day while I'm gone.'

'Ugh, tell me about it.' As we step out of the shade into the dawn, Tryndamere grows contemplative. 'Ashe, I've been thinking.'

I'm still blinking away colours. 'Hmm?'

'I think, in some ways, you planned all of this.'

'What?'

'I think you chose to fall for Sej. Your story's too neat. Wed your enemy, unite the Freljord? I know bait for the skalds when I hear it. Even if you don't succeed, you've got another part, railing against the world for denying your passion.'

'Do you think this is all an act? I'm serious about Sejuani! How much…'

'I know you are but listen. A family choose to bear and love their kids. Would you call their feelings into question because they planned everything?'

'I wish I knew.' The subject is sore enough to quell my fury. 'Motherhood is a foreign country.'

'But you see my point.'

'I guess. Do I seem in control? Every day feels like an uphill struggle to regain it.'

'I think you are but I can see where it ends. You chose to want Sej. Your Demacian lovebird snuck up on you. She's the one person who forced herself into your grand design. You can't place her, and you can't trust her. She's dangerous.'

'Quinn's just… if Quinn's dangerous, then all of humanity's dangerous.'

'Yes!' Tryndamere lights up, as though I've had a breakthrough. 'But again, she's not humanity. She's a Demacian agent. Remember that, always.'

Giving up, I rest my head on Tryndamere's arm. 'Are we truly parting ways, bickering as a couple?'

'Looks like it.'

'I'm glad. I'll miss you, Tryndamere.'

'Same.'


	21. Faith - Chapter 4

**Faith – Chapter 4**

Our journey to Demacia felt unreal. Outside of the Freljord, life is too easy. Roads cushion your feet. Animals leave you be. The wind is gentle. I sometimes wonder if I am still at home, dreaming of a romantic adventure, free of the stink, horror, boredom and inconvenience of travel.

Is this how Sejuani sees our way of life?

There was no hope of us bonding as a team. Before leaving, I'd taken Quinn aside and insisted we couldn't be familiar near Volibear. To my horror, she wept. We needed her goodwill, so I kept giving her little crumbs of comfort, apologetic smiles, touches on her cloak and sleeves.

Once, I was careless enough to brush her glove. When she looked up, I swallowed a knot in my throat and ran behind a tree, feigning a sudden bout of food poisoning.

Volibear's mood was better, now our mission was underway, but he remained vigilant and uncommunicative. As the climate warmed, he couldn't sweat. Eventually, he collapsed on all-fours. I halted our march and sought the nearest river. My heart ached when Volibear apologised for slowing us down.

I knew better than to tell him it was all right, instead offering that his prowess in battle would make up for any delay.

He gave a strange, knowing laugh, as if he knew the words of a politician when he heard them.

Quinn led us off the main road, through deep woods, noisy with wildlife, until we came to a wall of golden bricks.

* * *

I'm overwhelmed by the saturation of colour. Quinn grimaces. 'Petricite, really tough wood, usually stone-coloured. We have so much to be proud of, but this looks awful, as though we're tax collectors rather than heroes.'

I chuckle. Jarvan III, you're a sly fox. 'I'd assume it's to lure refugees from the Freljord. "Welcome to Demacia, land of plenty, where the streets are paved with gold".'

'Oh, that's awkward.'

'I'll be draining _your_ talent, one day, but I'm still impressed. All our feats of engineering have become ruins. Even if this wall is garish, I'd love to build something on this scale once the Freljord is united.'

Volibear says, 'I hope you never get the chance.'

Quinn seems forlorn. 'But your country's like a dream. I'll remember that view from the mountainside, those campfires and fairy lights, until I fall in battle.'

What a horrible thought. Surely Demacians can retire? I say, 'You needn't worry. My plan is to use infrastructure to reveal more of the Freljord, rather than bury nature with buildings. I can't explain without showing you the great cities of our past. Archaeology tells a million stories better than words.'

'I'd love to see them,' says Quinn, 'But I know you can't promise anything.' She glances about. 'I… need a moment, if that's all right?'

'What are you doing?' We're in her territory now and I can't trust her blindly. She may be answering a call of nature, but she normally uses that exact phrase to excuse herself.

'I have to wear my disguise or people in Demacia might recognise me,' Quinn says. 'Don't worry. Volibear will hear if I go too far.'

He sounds wary. 'Provided Valor doesn't whisk you into the sky.'

Quinn shoves two fingers into her mouth and whistles. Valor settles on a rock, watching us like a gargoyle staring from a turret.

Volibear stares back. 'Hmph. Is he here as collateral, or to prevent us following?'

'A bit of both,' says Quinn. 'I'd rather you didn't see my… you know.'

Quinn doesn't like her breasts. Even at our most intimate, she covered up. Surprisingly, Volibear concedes with only a grunt of exasperation. She gives a little wave then scurries away to get undressed. Volibear asks, 'Are you the sole human woman who doesn't hate her body?'

'Possibly, though I have my moments. I'm surprised you let her go.'

'Quinn's pain is… familiar even if I don't fully grasp it.' Volibear shakes his head. 'Ugh, I shouldn't have indulged her. Too much is at stake.'

'When you say "familiar", are you talking about Sejuani?'

'Whatever she's told you is none of my business and I've betrayed her confidence enough.'

I watch as he lumbers away, ending our conversation. 'Do you still consider this a betrayal?'

'Yes.'

We stand apart in silence. Valor hops over to me. His large eyes reflect a grossly distorted image of my face. I can see my nostrils prised apart. Is that what Valor sees? Maybe that's my true self.

I'm so mesmerised, I barely notice when Valor casually unfurls one wing. A sudden blow drops me to the soil. My vision clears and I see Valor gnawing at his plumage without a care.

The slap was obligatory for seducing his best friend without flowers or a promise, a normal response to a normal cad.

Thank you, Valor. That was a fine gesture. For a moment, I felt like a scoundrel rather than a devil or a saint. I felt like a person.

Quinn hasn't returned yet. I grow nervous. 'Do you smell company?'

Volibear's nose twitches. 'There's a human farm about a mile south. Maybe less than a mile if this wall's blocking the wind.'

'Any sign of an ambush?'

'Nothing obvious.'

'Jarvan has a mage. She could weave an illusion to…'

Quinn saunters into view.

Her shock of messy, purple hair is covered with a grey bandana. Padding across her waist thickens her androgynous planes to a masculine bell-shape. Wide, flared britches hang loose over her strong thighs. Any hint of a woman's walk is channelled into a swagger, both hands thrust into her pockets. I think her boots are filled or altered in some way, boosting her to my height.

The top and sides of her neck are graded subtly, bringing out her jawline, which is dotted enough to suggest a half-day of stubble. Her fair lips are blurred with a kind of tallow that lessens their prominence, while small ticks of charcoal darken her mouth. Her eyes are the biggest shock. Not only are they smudged enough to make them appear smaller, they have changed colour from amber to brown.

Quinn smirks, as though she's about to say an awful chat-up line, and… 'Unfortunately, I could never get the voice right.'

I burst out laughing. 'You sound like a little boy trying to get served in a tavern.'

'I guess that works.'

'Erm… how did you…?'

'The eyes? Lenses imported from Zaun. Totally worth it.'

I have more to say but all I can do is picture myself as a curious, confident little girl, playing with grubby little Quinn, all frogs and snails and puppy dogs' tails. Behind a grain silo, I'd raise my skirts and let innocent fingers unearth my secrets. I'd watch Quinn's face contort in bewilderment and arousal with each wet pump of my fist…

* * *

I'm trapped within my thoughts. When I was a girl, playing with girls, I rarely felt powerful. My partners were either too solicitous or competitive. I'd never had a leash on a boy's throat. If I'd experienced it, would I have turned out worse, or would I be gentler, more comfortable with the reins of power?

Would I not have hurt Sejuani?

Would she love me still?

* * *

I must have blacked out. Under the gallop of my palpitations, I hear voices yelling, 'Ashe? Ashe!'

I blink. 'Um… yes?'

Twin sighs of relief answer me. Volibear says. 'You didn't respond for a good fifteen seconds. I thought you were having a seizure.'

I'm inwardly terrified. All I have is my focus and I'm losing it. 'Oh, nothing so dramatic, I think it's just a bit of sunstroke and worry. This climate is challenging.'

Volibear nods in sympathy. Quinn says. 'I told you to keep your hood up and have plenty of water!' She looks even poutier as a boy. 'Have you touched your flask? You never look after yourself.'

She's being too personal. 'Quinn, we've barely spent a fortnight in each other's company. Settle down.'

She flinches. I must have spoken with too much venom. 'Yes… Your Majesty,' she says, bitterly.

The boundaries are in place. I hope she doesn't retaliate. 'Thank you. So where do we go now?'

'Valor can take us over but…' She looks at Volibear. My trepidation grows. Does this mean Quinn was planning to separate us?

Undaunted, Volibear shows off his claws. 'You've not seen a bear climb? I'll get over. Truth be told, I'm surprised you don't clear the trees from this area. They make the wall pointless.'

Quinn says, 'Our northern border's not a concern. We need all our resources to repel Noxus.' Demacia's aid seems unlikelier by the day. Valor squawks. 'Oh, shut up, you.'

I have to ask, 'What was that?'

'Val and I need to split up or he blows my cover, so he makes fun of me while he still can.'

'Your appearance tickles him?'

'Always. Now before we go…' Quinn throws me her canteen. I'm too slow to catch, and it ricochets off my bosom. In a fit of pique, I massage my sore breast in front of Quinn. I know she can't handle it. Sure enough, her ears turn bright red. She stammers. 'Hydrate yourself before you pass out. I haven't seen you drink all day.'

Volibear says dryly, 'She ran out of liquor this morning.'

I swear nothing gets past him. Quinn's one tantrum away from getting me killed. I say, 'With better company, I wouldn't have to get drunk.' I make a point of spilling half the water down my cleavage. Apart from the sexy thrill of putting on a show for Quinn, it simply feels good. I stare daggers at Volibear. 'Do you think Sejuani's improving while you pass judgement?'

'I'll march alone if I must.' Volibear glides up the nearest tree like an otter swimming upstream. His body's even longer than I thought. He could swallow me whole with a deep breath.

I lick a stray drop of water from the canteen then throw it back. 'Thank you but I'm done. You have the rest.'

I see her throat undulate with each gulp. She coughs into her hands. When she looks up, the lenses are gone. Her naked eyes are bloodshot.

She murmurs, 'Better than nothing,' as Valor hoists me into the sky.


	22. Faith - Chapter 5

**Faith – Chapter 5**

Quinn is chattier now. Jarvan was right about one thing. She talks plenty despite her unease. I guess others don't listen to her when louder voices dominate.

She discloses nothing personal beyond where her memories work and fail. Her speech is a wall of trivia. Maybe this new bearing is an effect of her disguise or she's reminding us we're in her lair. Quinn is no helpless chick. She's a professional.

I watch her mouth while she describes the sound and stench of the cattle markets, and how little they spend on cleaning roads. I'm suddenly humbled that this young warrior trusted me with her defloration, such an important rite in her culture.

She notices my attention. 'Am I babbling, Your Majesty?' The formal address carries its usual sting.

'Not at all. I enjoy listening to you.'

Volibear says, 'Keep it up. You're helping me stay awake. Besides, we may need information about your land if we lose your guidance.'

Quinn doesn't sound flattered. 'You think I'll betray you.'

'Naturally,' he says, 'But I trust Ashe even less.' I don't answer. 'My concern is that Jarvan will assign a different escort, someone less co-operative.'

Please, not Lux. Avarosa, preserve me.

_Luxanna's a kindred soul, but she never had your freedom._

Huh?

Quinn addresses me. Too late, I realise the direction I'm facing. 'Is there something wrong with my disguise?'

'No, just erm…' Very smooth, Ashe, you had no such trouble when you were seducing her. Get with it. 'How do you not sweat? Your make-up hasn't run at all.'

'I smear on paste which clogs up all of my pores. I'll soon be covered in spots. Even fewer people will give me a second glance.'

'Well, I'm going to peel something rotten if it's any consolation.'

A knowing smile touches her dark lenses. 'You're peeling already.'

Wait, was that a threat? Am I losing any semblance of control? I glance over my bare skin. I'm shedding like a lizard.

She says, 'There's an apothecary who does a really good ointment. I could fetch you some if you'd like?' I have to nod. Maybe she's drugging us, but I can't think of a polite reason to say no. 'Volibear, there's a river coming up, if you have to cool off.'

He says, 'You're our prisoner. Shouldn't we be seeing to _your_ welfare?'

'You're in no position to grant anything _I_ need.'

* * *

The Citadel of Dawn is a beacon, shining justice upon all. We've nothing like it in the Freljord, where an exposed fort is impossible to maintain. We have to keep at least one face covered or the fierce northern winds will tear us apart.

In Demacia, decency comes before survival.

Quinn says, 'They claim you can see it from a hundred miles around, an exaggeration of course, but one you can believe. As children, we used to see the home fires roaming under the stars. We thought, one day, we'd bear those torches, bringing light and inspiration. It wasn't to be.'

Volibear asks, 'An absent friend?'

'I had a twin brother. He's no longer with us.'

'You have my condolences.'

'Thank you,' says Quinn. 'But I have enough challenges that I rarely dwell.'

'Action is always good.'

I look up at our destination and wonder if there's a public execution awaiting us. 'I hope you're right.' Valor prowls the horizon. I don't know whether I picture Quinn's brother as her disguise or another giant eagle. 'If you don't mind me asking, what was your brother like?'

'Oh, you can ask anything of me.' That sounds like a recrimination. 'Just in case you're wondering, no, you're not looking at him. He was far taller than me, and still felt the need to lie about his height. His hair was lighter, sort of strawberry-blonde rather than…' She waves at her bandana, which obscures everything. I already know Quinn's a natural redhead, even if she's coy about it for some reason. 'And his eyes were blue. He was always the clown, and I was the quiet, cautious one. He was popular but very choosy about his friends. I think he wanted them to like me as well, which was nice but… you know, sometimes I felt like an excuse.'

'Did he not like opening up?'

'Yeah, I don't think was scared. He just liked having the world at arm's length, so he didn't have to take it seriously. He had a lot of girlfriends but he couldn't go a month without losing interest and breaking someone's heart. I used to go mad at him over that, for all the good it did. I think he knew I was jealous.'

Volibear says, 'Of whom?'

'Everyone, I guess? They had a life and I didn't.'

I say, 'You never told me his name.'

'No, the sound of it is like a familiar scent or a piece of music. It brings all the memories rushing back.'

'You don't have to…'

'Yes, I do,' says Quinn. 'You deserve to know before…'

Dread rises. 'Before what, Quinn?'

'Anything? I don't know. There's every chance we'll…' Quinn turns away. 'Caleb. His name was Caleb.'

A tear rolls down Quinn's cheek from an artificial iris. Any decent person would comfort her in some way but Volibear's scrutiny holds me back.

While I hesitate, he steps in, laying a fatherly paw on her shoulder. He reproaches me with a glance before saying to Quinn, 'I feel your pain, young one. I lost most of my family when I was a cub, through disease, war and ill-fortune. Only my father survived to die of old age and he would have given his life for any of us.'

Quinn smiles. 'Call me "young one" again, and I'll call you "Mr. Bear".'

Volibear chuckles. 'That's fair.'

She looks at me with dead longing. I can't voice an apology. She changes the subject. 'How's your ropework, Your Majesty?'

'Good enough to scale mountains but I'm not above guidance.'

'My legs hyper-extend. I once gnawed through ankle binds when I was caught. You'll have to secure my feet and wrists together or His Majesty will know I had a chance to escape.'

I picture Quinn, trussed up like a deer, tight bottom thrust outwards, ready for spit-roasting. 'I'd rather strap your ankles to your thighs. You'll be easier to carry that way.'

'Do you want me to die of cramp? Suspend me from a pole. You could spread the weight across you and Volibear.'

'We'll pretend we did that for the journey but I'll need you as a human shield when I approach the castle. I want your vitals exposed.'

'Ugh, all right.' She beckons Valor. 'Good luck securing him, by the way. He won't co-operate, even if I ask him to. You'll have to wrestle him down.'

Volibear sizes him up. 'That's a demon with wings, not a bird.'

As I feel the burn of the rope, sliding through my hands, I picture Quinn's muscles flexing under the pressure. Grabbing her arm, I twirl her like a dance partner. My breath touches her neck as I drive her wrists between her shoulder blades. 'Don't enjoy this too much.'

'No promises,' Quinn says, turning her cheek so our lips are barely an inch apart. I catch the briefest taste of her skin and nearly cry out. She says, 'I'm sorry, Ashe.'

I hesitate at the sound of my name, rather than my title. 'What for?'

'Everything.' She looks up at the castle. 'I wonder if they're watching us from up there?'

'Is that likely?'

'Never thought about it until now,' she says. 'Hold a big enough secret inside and it casts a shadow across everything you see.'

* * *

We scale the hill. Volibear holds Quinn and Valor aloft. While the golden road is impressive, all I can imagine is rain darkening it an ugly greyish-brown.

Quinn's discomfort is lost under Valor's angry snorting. We had to tie his beak shut so Volibear wouldn't go deaf.

I see figures approach. Wrapping myself around Quinn, I hold a simple knife to her throat. I have to draw blood or it won't look real. My ceremonial dagger, the Frost Queen's Claim, stays at home. I did horrible things with that weapon, things I may have to repeat if Sejuani has her way.

The leading silhouette is unmistakeable. Those immense pauldrons could only mean… 'Garen?' I say. 'Does he normally welcome visitors?'

Quinn says, 'On occasion. He loves to be the face of Demacia. This is good, I think.'

'Why?'

'Garen believes in people, so he'll assume you can be reasoned with.'

'There's always a first.' I prepare my thoughts and words. 'Who should I watch out for?'

'Xin Zhao. If no one tells him to back off, he'll call our bluff.'

'What about Lux?'

'She'll adore this. I don't think she'll interfere.'

Garen thunders over the ground like a charging horse. I feel my bones rattle as he draws near. I pray Quinn's right about his generosity. He was one of the friendlier members of Jarvan's entourage but remains a terrifying sight, even taller and wider than Tryndamere.

Garen recognises Valor's plumage and signals everyone to stop. 'Quinn?' He tries to make sense of the tangle of limbs under Volibear's arm. 'Quinn? What have they done to you?'

I hiss. 'Nothing yet.' With a jerk of my wrist, I puncture Quinn's throat. Her pulse urges life to the surface. If only Quinn were a better actress, I could fool myself that I wasn't scaring her.

Garen's jaw drops. 'Queen Ashe?'

'Finally recognise me? You saw through my act before. Don't pretend you're surprised.'

'I thought you were reckless but not suicidal. You won't achieve anything by threatening us. Release Quinn. Don't let your personal failings ruin everything you've achieved!'

I laugh like a stage villain. 'It's a bit late for that, and it's far too late for you to show concern. After all, you sent a spy to map our defences!'

'That wasn't Quinn's purpose, and you know it! Why in Valoran would we send a known agent when we could…?'

'Incompetence? I don't care for your excuses. All I care is that she was in my lands without my permission. Or do you think all of Runeterra is your proving ground?'

Volibear lends his voice to mine. 'And your history with Ashe means nothing to me._ I_ captured Quinn, and if Ashe hadn't arrived when she did, your cub would have been torn asunder.' He can twist events like any demagogue. What else are you hiding, Volibear? 'Maybe I'm a fool to believe her but Ashe insisted you have something I need. You owe her Quinn's life.'

Garen looks to the heavens in frustration. 'Your tribes were mortal enemies yesterday. Now you're collaborating. Why did we get involved again? I told Jarvan to give Quinn a break, rather than send her on a vigil to the Freljord of all places. When he burrows into that maze in his head, you need an army to drag him out.' I see my reflection in his claymore. 'You will pay for this but, right now, all I want is to save Quinn. Tell me your price.'

The first obstacle's down. I say, 'Grant me a private audience with Prince Jarvan.'

'Dig yourself deeper if you must. I'll take you but whatever harm you've done to Quinn will be paid back a hundred fold.'

Success. I pat Volibear's arm, thanking him for his vital improvisation. We'd barely managed a civil exchange, let alone a rehearsal. He lumbers on, effortlessly holding our prisoners like trophies.

I stay behind Quinn. Garen looks at her with brotherly concern. 'Don't fret. You'll be safe and home where you belong. I promise.'

Quinn says, 'I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble.'

'You're no trouble, Quinn. I have a younger sister who's trouble. Whatever happens, I'm on your side. Frankly, I'm sick of Jarvan taking you for granted.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Call me "Garen" already. You're a fellow knight as far as I'm concerned.'

I'm so grateful that I stupidly comment. 'I'm glad you still accept her.'

'Still?' Garen barks. 'What right have you to sanction our judgement? You're nothing but a wolf. Don't speak as though Quinn's open heart justifies your perversion!'


	23. Faith - Chapter 6

**Faith – Chapter 6**

I've no time to look upon endless portraits, no time to feel the weight of history, no time to spy gold ornaments and worry that I've blundered into a dragon's lair. There's _certainly_ no time to savour the heat and sweat of the young woman I'm clutching for dear life.

Instead, I have to note every corridor, turning and lobby to construct a map. I see balconies and choke points where an archer, behind a wall of regenerating Ursine flesh, might sow havoc. Should we invite Jarvan's wrath, we'll need every trick at our disposal.

Over and over, Garen yells the situation is under control, no sudden moves. Each repetition is like a hammer blow to my skull.

Our footsteps echo down a great hall, flanked with statues of legendary knights. A chill crosses the back of my neck. I see Lux, watching from above, her smile as blank and irritating as ever. She cups her oval face, observing us without lifting a finger. Quinn was right about her non-interference, at least.

Once Garen reaches a pair of massive, emblazoned doors, I steel myself. This must be our reckoning.

I'm surprised at how small Jarvan's receiving room is. Comprising a circle between two staircases, it resembles a duelling pit. One descent is at our entrance, the other by Jarvan's ebony throne, a tasteful shock amid the shine.

Jarvan slouches, wearing the same golden armour as before. He's even kept his three day stubble. The sense of _déjà vu_ slows my reactions. I don't see Xin Zhao until his weapon digs into the thin flesh under my ribs. In response, I push my knife deep enough that Quinn squawks in pain. Volibear squeezes Valor until bones crack.

Finally, Jarvan surges upright. 'Everyone, stand down!'

Xin Zhao doesn't move. I'm told my "piercing azure glare" can bring anyone to their knees. All those compliments ring false before Xin Zhao's unwavering serenity. He says, 'This woman is no killer.' Sejuani would be disappointed. As glad as I am to hear Xin Zhao's appraisal, I can't imagine worse timing.

Jarvan says, 'Can you look at her companion and say the same?'

Xin Zhao's attention flickers. 'No,' he says, lowering his weapon.

While Jarvan looks over the battlefield, I sense a profound weight, weakening his posture. He's one of the tallest men I've seen but he wears it like a burden. As a war veteran, his lack of response may stem from weariness rather than statesmanship. I have to find an opening. He says, 'Garen, you did the right thing, as always. Thank you.'

Garen salutes. 'I couldn't risk anyone's life, Your Majesty.'

'No time for protocol. I think Ashe warrants a little candour.' Jarvan address me. 'I didn't expect you to ransom Quinn but I saw the possibility. Never did I think you'd arrive in person with an Ursine traitor.'

Volibear refuses the bait. 'Your expectations are meaningless. We're in control, not you.' He rattles Valor hard enough to scare me.

Jarvan balks. 'Enough! You've made your point. What are your demands?'

I have to be careful. Jarvan's unlikely to publicise Quinn's affair but if I misplay, he might retaliate. One stray comment will turn Volibear against me. The dance begins. 'I'll give them to you, alone. Send your men away.'

Jarvan follows my lead. 'Xin Zhao stays. You're not taking me hostage.'

'You… me… Quinn. Everyone else goes.'

I hear Volibear growl. 'You planned this from the start, you witch.'

'We share just one goal. That doesn't mean you're privy to all my dealings. We're still at war.'

Lightning erupts. My heart echoes wildly. 'Count yourself lucky that I made a promise to a better chieftain. Sacrifice me then. If you don't succeed in your quest, I'll haunt you for the rest of your days.'

Garen says, 'You're in Demacia. The just are safe, whatever Queen Ashe might intend.'

'She's not my queen.'

Jarvan twists a mechanism behind his throne. A partition opens, revealing a corridor lit by magical fire. He stalks over the threshold like a heron. Does every Demacian have an odd walk? You have Garen's gallop, Xin Zhao's trundling siege unit impersonation, Quinn's adorable hunch…

I'm anxious enough that I miss Jarvan's explanation. All I hear is, 'Warded against eavesdroppers, magical and otherwise.'

'Oh…' I come back to the present. 'Lux's work?'

'We are the vanguard of arcane suppression. Our ingenuity runs deeper than you know.'

Lux will definitely be watching. I pray that's all she does.

* * *

Trailing through the bowels of the castle, I haul Quinn like a slain doe. Jarvan eyes me curiously. 'How perfectly barbaric.' I scowl, not dignifying his quip with an answer. He continues. 'You're stronger than you look. A shame, your costumes undermine your power.'

'How gallant. I was thinking the same about your armour.' He looks ridiculous.

'True. It is meant to be seen from a distance, not up close.'

The secret war room is impossibly huge. Some of our banqueting halls are smaller. The table covers Runeterra in exhaustive detail. Jarvan does consider the whole world his backyard.

Thankfully, his map of the Freljord is incomplete. If it's roughly to scale, he's got a vague sense of where Sejuani roams but Ursine lands are too far north. That's almost Lissandra's territory.

There's a little bird figurine touching base with a bow and arrow. That must be Quinn and me, together as if we're married. At least Jarvan can't deny knowledge of Quinn's movements with this on show.

Despite all this opulence, I'd sooner work at my narrow desk. I have charts, rather than pointless bunting, upon every spare bit of wall. Demacia may have reach but they lack focus and raw field information. Too many variables are going unheeded, a fatal omission if you're campaigning in adverse conditions.

I understand why Lux was keen to get involved with us.

I lower Quinn to the floor and cradle her in my lap. I touch the clotted blood on her neck, silently horrified at my own capabilities. I wish I could apologise but I can't say the words until I have Jarvan's co-operation. She's drinking in our proximity, like a slave gulping filthy water because they'll never taste wine.

Jarvan picks up a chair and sits apart from us. He leans forward, resting his massive chin upon a clenched fist. 'Where to begin?' he says. 'Quinn, I'm glad to see you back home where you belong.'

'Thanks, Your Majesty. Sorry for causing you so much trouble.' She keeps repeating that phrase.

'If anyone's causing trouble, it's the woman with a knife to your throat.' He scrutinises me. 'What is the meaning of this, Ashe?'

'I caught one of your spies, and I need a ship in return.'

'A very specific request. Why?'

'To rescue someone from the Shadow Isles.'

He draws back in surprise. 'Intriguing, and who is your Ursine companion? Evidently, he's not your subject and wields thunder like a shaman. I'm confident that's Volibear himself.'

'It is. The person we're here to rescue is the Winter's Wrath, Sejuani.'

Jarvan responds as though scolding a child. 'The woman you sought our help to crush. Now you wish to save her. Quinn, you performed a great service, keeping us out of this war. Despite Ashe's claims, I suspected our two tribes were not so distant.'

I say, 'You mean _Tryndamere's_ claims. I always insisted our tribes were one people. A shame you remember his words and not mine.'

'You were less clear, deprived of sleep and wit. Regardless, your… indiscretion with Quinn raised a possibility, that you propositioned Sejuani before Tryndamere. Your muddled actions befit a spurned lover.'

He's impossibly near the mark. 'No… you presume too much. I find her attractive. Many people do. That was my sole omission.'

'Suppose I believe you. What has changed since our last meeting?'

'Do you remember the story of how Lissandra nearly killed us?' He nods. 'After you left, I captured Volibear. He told me Sejuani was able to come back and save us by pledging her soul to Kalista.'

'Do you believe him?'

'Volibear's not a liar. You can take him at his word.'

'Should I be dealing with him and not you?'

'He would ask you for the same thing.'

'Though he would be more willing to sacrifice Quinn,' says Jarvan. 'Was the theatre for his benefit, a means to persuade him you were serious? You must spend every moment in his company fearing for your life.'

Just a bit. 'I'd be lying if I said otherwise but he needs my help.'

'Why you? Does he believe you more competent and ruthless than his kin?'

'Yes and, unlike him, I've got a vessel to carry souls back to the Freljord.'

Jarvan's hostility grows. 'You would employ dark arts to further your cause?'

'Not at all.' I think he protests too much. 'Anivia provided it.'

'Elemental magic?''

'I presume.'

'So Volibear would have no trouble wielding it himself?'

'No more than I would.'

'Then why risk his company? He could simply kill you and steal it.'

'I needed someone who could brave the Shadow Isles.'

'Yet we have resources. You could have made Garen or Luxanna one of your demands.' He closes the net. 'What you _really_ needed was someone to kill Quinn on your behalf, and you couldn't bring yourself to give her up.' I'm choking. 'Why should I believe you can kill her now? That we have anything to negotiate apart from your release?'

'Because…' I fall silent and lose myself in Quinn's plain beauty. She represents all I'm fighting for, the right of normal people to simply be.

Suddenly, Quinn's the most precious thing in this whole, twisted world. Before getting to know her, I wouldn't have picked out her face in a field. Now I can't believe I'm responsible for something so gorgeous and unique.

I'm trying and failing to weigh Sejuani's ineffable damnation against a visceral here and now. My willpower's gone. I'm sorry, my princess. You thought I was pitiless enough to save us both. I'd always wanted to prove you wrong but not like this.

Jarvan grabs a lance off the wall. 'I respect your sense of obligation. If a worthy opponent saved my friends, I would not think twice about returning the favour, but I can't allow you to extort Demacia. You have no hold over me, as Quinn's life is not at risk. I will excuse your trespass and not send anyone else to your country. That is all you will get from me.'

I swallow but the lump in my throat will not vanish. 'What about Volibear?'

'Luxanna can bind him if you can't retaliate.'

So, I have to make a genuine effort on Quinn's life? Should I begin cutting off her fingers? I…

Quinn yells. 'No! You can't do this, Your Majesty!'

He dismisses her. 'Quinn, I've made my decision. It's over.'

'But…'

'I've given you space to reflect and overcome when a sterner liege would have disowned you for dragging our name through the dirt. Your broken past and immaturity will excuse no further. Let this woman go before she destroys you.'

'Before _Ashe_ destroys me? For the sake of _your_ pride, you're gambling with my life!' Quinn bares her throat. On cue, I thrust my blade into her right shoulder. She cries out in pain. 'You may not take Ashe's desperation seriously but I've known it, first-hand. I felt her pass out in the middle of my first kiss!' Jarvan cringes at that detail. He can face mortal danger but not intimacy, and Quinn knows it. 'I want to live, Your Majesty!'

She's roaring from her tiny body. Jarvan is losing control of the situation. 'Calm down, I promise you'll be…'

'Don't tell me to calm down when you're letting me die! Am I that repulsive? That you'd abandon me for the sake of providing a ship? For the sake of ending a civil war? If you won't take Ashe's threat seriously then how about mine? If you don't help, I'll tell everyone you ordered me to seduce her!'

Jarvan points with his lance. 'You wouldn't dare.'

'Dare to what? Save myself? How else can I persuade you that Ashe is going to kill me?'

'Do you think anyone would believe a promiscuous farm girl over…?'

'Yes, they would!' She powers through his objection. 'I'm Demacia's Wings and I bear your message to people like me. There are legions of dirty, stinking farm girls, and only one of you!'

Jarvan advances like an angry treant. Even if Quinn survives, her life is over… unless I justify her treason. I had doubted her loyalty but, right now, she's more committed than I am.

Sejuani, when we meet, you will know every moment of my weakness. I promise.

Distraught at what I must do, I sever Quinn's jugular.

Blood gushes. Her mouth stretches in a grotesque yawn. I stare Jarvan down as I press my fingers into the warm river. Baring my teeth, I choke out a threat. 'I'm serious, Jarvan. I… love Quinn but I can't forgo this chance to unite the Freljord. Help me or I'll release the pressure and our little bird will be… no more.'

Jarvan reaches out like a man drowning. His weapon clatters to the floor. 'Quinn, I was a fool to doubt your words and risk your life. I am unworthy of being your prince.' He kneels. 'I will see to your wounds and… arrange a vessel for Queen Ashe.'

I forget about our performance and wail. Huddling over Quinn, I touch our heads together, praying she's already too drowsy to fear death.

With the scraping of metal on stone, Jarvan shuffles away. He murmurs to himself. 'Demacia… you teach me something new every day. This truly is…. the greatest…'


	24. Faith - Chapter 7

**Faith – Chapter 7**

I held on long enough to see Jarvan's court musician flow into the war room, green tendrils of energy spiralling from her chords. Once I knew Quinn would live, I withdrew into blissful catatonia.

There's no veil between sleep and wakefulness. I open my eyes, yet I can't infer my surroundings or the time of day. My limbs won't move. All is a horrible, sickly grey.

There's one constant, an ice floe, drifting like a mote through vitreous humour. From a bright shape, erect like a tower, comes a known voice, questioning and eternal. 'You live. That is good. You were unreachable even when conscious. I'm surprised your medicine wasn't poison.'

'Volibear?' I lift a hand. It's like I'm touching someone else's forehead, or a damp stone wall. 'Ugh… what happened?'

'Jarvan came storming out of the room, shouting for a healer. After the wide, loud human returned with aid, I was told I could release Valor as we'd get our ship. Obviously, I did nothing until I saw Quinn, drenched with blood.' Volibear's tone remains calm. Savagery doesn't faze him. 'I knew then our battle was over, no matter the verdict.'

'Is Quinn alive?'

'Yes, you didn't cause her any lasting harm.'

Oh, Volibear, how little you know. 'Good. I think we've won. Even if Jarvan weren't one to keep his word, I suspect a third party saw everything, one who's not above using secrets to her advantage.'

'You've lost me.'

'Lux,' I say. 'Garen's younger sister. She's a piece of work and a powerful mage. If Jarvan turns on us, I think she'll exact a heavy toll for her silence.'

'You have a supple mind. I can barely keep up with all the names, and I'm genuinely startled you followed through with your promise to kill Quinn. I underestimated your willingness to bloody your hands.'

'I have more blood on my hands than you could ever know.' I try to sit up. Every joint feels weak and sore. 'What is wrong with me?'

'Dehydration and stress, reportedly. The healer at your bedside is mute, and averse to writing things down. Be mindful of your condition. She may be hiding something.'

'Are we in the same room?'

'Sadly, no. The Demacians aren't entirely without sense. I learnt about your state when a twittering yellow girl consulted me. She smelt of magic and I saw a wolf in her smile, so I erred on the side of caution, insisting I'd speak only with Jarvan or Quinn. I'm sure if your life depended on my intervention, one of them would say something.'

I nearly cry out in gratitude. 'You're a natural, Volibear. That was Lux.'

'Your prior words make sense. I'd watch your symptoms carefully.'

'I will but I can't see or feel much. Everything's grey.'

'That should pass. I can already feel you drifting.' Volibear exhales through his nose. 'For what it's worth, I'm in a large open cage, on display to the world like a circus animal. I'm coping through meditation. If the Demacians are helping us, they have a strange way of showing it.'

* * *

I wake up. My room smells of sickness and death, poorly masked with potpourri. Craning my neck, I see Jarvan's court musician, her hands folded and eyes closed in contemplation. This is the first time I've studied her closely. Despite her clear skin, she doesn't have the bearing of a young woman. She's perfectly glamorous, wearing a ceremonial dress that wreathes her buxom figure like a summer breeze. I feel that if I reached out, my hand would pass right through her. She's more like a feminine ideal than a living person.

How tragic. She must be lonely beyond words.

The musician looks up, as if hearing my thoughts. With an enigmatic smile, she plays a friendly chord on her zither, a greeting.

I venture, 'Good… morning?'

She nods. The room is drenched in the cloying amber of the dawn.

I feel nauseous, and my head is splitting. She motions to a jug of water at my bedside. So Volibear was right, I am dehydrated. As I reach for the jug, the musician holds my gaze. Her smile vanishes. Glancing to the door, she quietly plays a dissonant, loping waltz then draws a circle above her chest.

'Something's wrong with my heart?'

She nods. Her sculpted nails hover warily. She raises a finger to her lips.

We have company.

Quinn enters, creeping like a mischievous boy. An ill-fitting hood - absurd in warm weather, let alone indoors - conceals her scarred throat and ragged hair. Thankfully, she's taken out her lenses. Her golden eyes are sparkling again. 'You're awake! I thought I heard your voice. How are you feeling?'

'_You're_ asking me? You're just like Sejuani.'

Quinn forces a laugh, dismissing my comparison before she dwells on it. 'Ooh, it was obvious what was wrong with me, blood loss and all. Sona couldn't figure you out. She kept sounding all these horrible notes.'

'I think I was only tired.'

'Ashe, you've blacked out on me three times!'

Her indiscretion will be the death of me. Sona's right there. 'Will you…' My breath catches while I sit up. I realise, too late, that I'm undressed. Since when were Demacians comfortable with nudity? Luckily, I'm endowed enough to snag the sheets before they pool. 'Stop worrying about me! What you did was treason, even if you were at risk. You're lucky Jarvan sees you as a companion rather than a subject, or you wouldn't be here now.'

She turns red. 'A companion? I wouldn't go that far.' Quinn shouldn't blush over that. I'm angry enough that I don't reply. She's better than silly daydreams about Prince Charmless raising her out of poverty. Sona gives me an arch look, as if impressed with my deduction. 'Besides, I've already received my sentence, and it's one I'd have chosen.'

'I don't like the sound of this.'

'I'm coming with you to the Shadow Isles.'

Jarvan's devised a way for Quinn to prove herself beyond scandal, or execution by another name. 'Do you have any protection from undead?'

'Er… does Valor count?'

I doubt it. 'You should ask Volibear.' So Jarvan's given her nothing. With my best matriarchal tone, I say, 'The Shadow Isles will claim an untethered soul. Your company would be welcome but I'd reconsider.' Sona plays a tremulous chord, an affirmation of my warning.

'I knew you'd say that. Your friends told you the same, didn't they?'

'Well, yes but…'

'You ignored them. You wouldn't let someone else rescue Sejuani.' Conviction surrounds her like an aura. 'Sorry but you've got me whether you like it or not.'

I really want us to part ways. Quinn deserves a rest, and Volibear may catch us in a moment. 'Are you sure he won't budge on this?'

Quinn rubs her neck. 'I don't think you should try his generosity.'

I glimpse raw skin where her collar shifts. 'Erm… Quinn?'

'Yes?'

'Could you take off that hood?'

'I'd rather not. You'll get upset.'

'I have to bear the consequences of my deeds, and we both know lies can hurt.'

With her eyes closed, she tugs on the fabric. I see the markings of my desperation, three parallel strokes of increasing length and thickness.

Words fail me. Sona plucks a remorseful cadence. Quinn answers, 'Don't worry, Sona. You did well. I've no problem with how they look. I just don't want Ashe and His Majesty feeling regret whenever they see me.'

I'm drawn to her neck, appalled with the steadiness of my cuts. 'I'm sorry, Quinn. I don't expect you to forgive me.'

'You did nothing wrong. This is proof of my trust. I knew that if I drove you to the line, you wouldn't cross it, and I knew His Majesty wouldn't let me die.' Quinn thumps her chest in salute. 'Now, you have your ship, and you have me. Believe in yourself as I believe in you.'

My heart flutters. 'No, Quinn. You shouldn't ever trust me. I misled you once before.'

'Yes, but within your deception was… more truth than I could ever forget.' For a moment, I think she's going to say more but she bites off her unspoken words with a twisted smile. 'I should leave. The walls have ears and few people are dumb like Sona.' Quinn touches my ankle in awkward farewell. 'Rest up, Ashe. I'm ready when you are.' She leaves.

I throw off the bedclothes, tired of stewing in my own filth. Sona doesn't bat an eyelid at my sprawl. I feel like a pasty lump of meat as I rake through my tangles. 'What does anyone see in me?' Sona mimes laughter. 'Can I have whatever you put in your hair?'

She claps her hands together and nods. I guess few people discuss grooming with her.

'Thanks. We'll make a queen of me yet.' Her eyes betray nothing, like an empty sky. 'You must hear a lot.' She cocks her head to one side. 'And if you answered that question, people wouldn't tell you as much.'

No response.

'Why didn't you tell anyone about my heart?'

Sona plays a strange, wandering melody that ends without resolution. I have no idea what she means. When I try to speak again, she hits a jarring chord, ending the conversation. She turns her back and starts rifling through a drawer of cosmetics.

I guess if I'm to keep my secrets, I have to respect hers.


	25. Faith - Chapter 8

**Faith – Chapter 8**

I'm unfamiliar with open seas but I'm surprised at how the shore feels like home.

I stroll across the boardwalk. Strong winds ruffle my hair, providing respite from Demacia's dead heat. Pale gulls circle above masts of human artistry.

I peel off my gloves, bundle my cloak into my arms and savour the breeze. I draw many disapproving stares. You'd think even Demacian docks would allow for some level of undress. I pity the grafting sailors, drenched with grog and sweat under a naked sun.

Quinn glances over my bra, skirt, boots and everything in between. Our eyes meet and she turns away, as if burnt. 'Uh… I… how can you dress like that?'

'I'm far too hot.' I laugh. 'And your climate's a bit warm for me.'

Quinn groans at my terrible joke. 'You like it when strangers gawp at you?'

'Sometimes, but I have to be presentable at home.'

She gnaws her lip and scratches parts of her body. Leering faces are deterred by her scowl. 'You'll get heatstroke or sunburn if you're not careful. I don't want you passing out again.'

'Could you let it go?' I say. 'We're all sick at one point or another.'

'You're still sick. Your ribs are…'

'Let it go!' Why can't I be carefree just once? 'My body is my concern. Thank you very much. I don't let anyone control it unless I'm due an orgasm.'

She replies with a cross little grunt and withdraws in embarrassment. I nearly jump when Volibear speaks up. 'A shame you don't extend others the same courtesy. The Freljord is not your rose garden.'

I say, 'I want everyone to have a chance, not just those who fit one ideal. Your people may thrive in our current circumstances but you don't win a war by repeating one battle, praying things will never change. We have to diversify.'

'If you don't allow for purpose beyond existence, why should anyone change?'

'I guess by "purpose" you mean conflict. I believe people can find their own purpose without living in fear.'

'You're too naïve, or wilfully blind. For generations, my tribe languished. Every person chose an easy life because they could. We nearly died out.' He speaks as though the memory is fresh.

'I've no doubt you've earnt your wisdom but your experience does not comprise the world.'

'Yes, which is why I follow the chieftain who sees the farthest.'

'She's a perceptive woman,' I say, 'But she has trouble with issues closer to home.' A figure of speech that hides a physical truth, Sejuani's longsighted. It's our little secret.

'You're not wrong.' Volibear turns to our sulking ally. 'Quinn, I'm afraid looking after the strong-willed is a thankless and frustrating role. I have the same problem with Sejuani. She's a menace to herself.'

Quinn says. 'It may be hard but that's no reason for us to stop.'

'Agreed.'

I can't suggest Volibear should abandon Sejuani so I hold my tongue.

While troublesome, Quinn's mate-guarding feels novel. Sejuani allows… no… _compels_ me to run wild. I'm unsure if it's an improvement. In better circumstances, I could enjoy Quinn's hypocrisy. This little prude yips when she comes, and likes to suck on my toes. A little fantasy never hurt anyone, and remembering Quinn at her least dignified is a good way to deal with her attitude.

She guides us to our vessel. 'Here she is.'

There's no way this boat is Demacian. It looks like a hundred ships cut up and reassembled as one. So many different woods make up the hull that it resembles an upside-down jester's hat. Alongside cannons are devices glowing with hextech and elemental power. Half a broken figurehead, like a stone fungus, decorates the bow. Maybe the rippling folds were the lower part of a dress? The masts are decked with metal spider legs that zig-zag upwards.

All these wonders the Freljord lacks… I have to use the lost wisdom of our civilisation to drag us into the modern age.

While I'm trying to make sense of the structure, Volibear reads, '"_The Siren_."'

'Excuse me?' I say. He gestures to a chrome plate. Through the colour clash, I make out a name. 'Oh, "_Syren_" with a "Y". That's awful.'

'Yeah, I didn't name the bitch, all right?' A gaudy woman with a lion's mane of red curls approaches, her high heels tapping out a brisk rhythm. She wears a bodice that frames half a mile of cleavage. I suppose that outfit earns a few stares but I feel sexier as a woman, not a mannequin. She's imposing at first glance but I doubt she's any taller than Quinn, once you chop off the tricorn and silly boots. As we face off, it's apparent she's eyeing me just as critically.

We're cut from the same cloth, brazen youths driven to semi-respectable authority.

Luckily, this contender's not my type, even if I like her freckles and hair. Quinn's a secret redhead. I map the shade onto Quinn's bandana, only to feel a surge of displeasure when I see her gawping at the whore's breasts. I drift over to Quinn and pinch her bottom. She jumps with a blush loud enough to deafen Volibear.

The woman pushes her larger bosom towards mine and looks down as if I was a puddle she'd stepped in. 'Are you the Queen of the Freljord or cheap entertainment? I'm sure my boys can afford better than your squashed tits.'

Oh, sweet summer child, have you met my husband? If you think I'm easily scandalised, you've got another thing coming. 'I could earn twice as much with my thumb and forefinger than with your gaping holes.'

'That how you got those muscles?' The woman raises her pistols. 'Watch your mouth, kid. I've got shinier guns than you.'

She's got some nerve calling me that. I sense we're about the same age, and only one of us grew up in the Freljord. 'Ooh, nice toys. I bet you don't even feel them.' I get up in her face. 'Now are you going to piss any longer or shall we talk like adults?'

The woman snickers then tilts her head back with a loud, whooping laugh. 'I did wonder if you were a delicate snowflake or a brawling tribeswoman. Praise the kraken you've got some fire in your belly.' She holsters her guns and clasps my hand. 'I'm Captain Sarah Fortune, de facto leader of Bilgewater. Pleasure to meet you.'

'So Prince Jarvan isn't risking his own ship?'

'Like fuck, he would. I offered him all the booty in the world, including mine, but he wouldn't lift a finger to pick his nose.'

Ah, Jarvan's "aid" is throwing us and Bilgewater together. 'Why did you want his help?'

'I'm paying the Shadow Isles a friendly visit,' she says. 'That cursed shithole comes calling every time a sailor belches. We'd fought off an invasion, only for this pale storm to blow through. I _think_ it's harvesting corpses? I don't know how else to describe it.'

'I presume it's doing more if you've travelled all this way.'

'The world ain't so big when you live in a cabin rather than a cave but you're not wrong. Wind's rotting our buildings and land, sickening our people, killing some. Yeah, we've had worse, but we've had enough, so I'm going after them.'

Volibear shakes his head as if to say he doesn't recognise the phenomenon. I ask Sarah, 'Have you any experience fighting undead?'

'Yeah, we've wasted plenty of time doing that in Bilgewater. We need a priest, a paladin, or a mage of the right school. I know Demacia have the Crownguards and that winged celestial. Jarvan claims he's got no control over her, convenient. Also, he reckons Lux isn't a mage. Fuck off. You can buy two-bit Zaun devices that say otherwise. He might fool his own serfs, but no one else.' Quinn fidgets at the mention of her prior status.

I ask, 'What about _your_ allies?'

'We've got Illaoi back home but she's our only spiritual defence. If I brought her…'

'You'd have nothing to come back to.'

'You got it. And Illaoi's a thin reed for such a fat bitch. I wouldn't risk leading her to a place of dark energy. She might… I don't know… channel her god into the void or whatever.' Sarah flicks her wrist.

Volibear says, 'You're not far wrong. If Nagakabouros controlled the passage between life and death, it would unleash its test upon us all. The failures would reincarnate as plankton for the victors, who would grow with each turn of the wheel.'

I say, 'I'm surprised you don't approve.'

'There's a lot to admire in her espoused virtues but I disagree with her main principle. There is no test. We succeed and fail against each other, not some list of criteria.' The sermon rumbles on. Why did I start him off? 'The bounds of our struggle are in constant, undying flux. What your kraken priestess urges may sound like elevation of the strong. It is _not_, only supplication to her god's rule.'

Volibear's act earns a round of applause from Sarah. 'Divine wisdom in a big, sexy hulk of a bear, that's what I'm after. Babe, you're a shaman, yes? Can you fight undead?'

'I'm Volibear, Chosen of the Storm, and yes, I can rend spirits… although my powers are as contingent as my patience for lewd remarks.'

'All work and no play, huh? So you'd rather load my cargo than keep my feet warm?'

'If it will hasten our departure, then gladly. Hard work is good for the soul.'

Sarah calls to her crew, 'Hey, Rafen! Have I got a present for you!'

Volibear nearly bounds, eager to do some heavy lifting. Sarah peers down her nose at Quinn. 'So you're Jarvan's contribution?'

'I guess?' replies Quinn. 'I'm…'

'The bird girl, yes I know. Sorry but you were dead last on my wish list. I'm sure you can identify berries and follow trails but I'm up to my waist in travel-stained rogues. I was hoping for someone _tastier_ like Garen.'

'At least I won't pretend I'm in charge of your boat.'

'See what I mean? Dull as a calm sea. We thought a Demacian acting up would have us all in stitches. You're no fun.'

'Sorry to disappoint you but I'm not here for anyone's pleasure.' Quinn glares at me when she says that. I'm unsure if that's a reprimand for pinching her or not following through.

'That much is obvious. I doubt you've been liable for half a cockstand.' A screech lifts our attention to the skies, where Valor is chasing seagulls. 'Ooh, is that your brother? He's a big boy.'

'He's my friend.'

'At least he'll keep our deck free of bird shit.' Suddenly mindful, she inspects her hat. 'I'll get your quarters ready, once our boarding ramp ain't full of cargo. Shouldn't leave pirates unsupervised for too long. You might want to stock up on lady-things, if barbarians and virgins bother. You're not having any of mine.'

Quinn blurts out the single worst response. 'I'm not a virgin!'

I expect everyone to fall silent and watch. Thankfully the Demacian locals are keeping a wide berth. Quinn's reputation is secure. Sarah bursts out laughing. 'I take it back. You might be fun after all!' She leaves me with a giant beetroot where Quinn once stood.

I reach for her shoulder. With an angry stomp, she hisses, 'Why did you pinch me?'

'Because you were staring.'

'I wasn't!'

'You were.'

'You're imagining things! And even if I was staring, you shouldn't go touching me _there_ when I can't so much as hug you or…' She looks away, her voice barely a whimper, 'Say that I hugged you.'

'Do you need a hug, now?'

'So you'll flaunt your body to strangers, but I get nothing unless I make a scene?' Quinn grabs my wrists. Her composure's in tatters. 'I thought something would change! If I could pay a large enough price… if I could be your hero then you'd have an excuse to… touch me once in a while. But I couldn't ever be your hero. You don't take me seriously. No one does.'

Her strength is intoxicating. 'I do, Quinn…'

'You don't!' Her eyes flash and I feel my chest heave. 'You like me. I believe that much but I'm just a girl to you, something you can dote on and throw aside when it's convenient.'

I have to assert control. A trickle of annoyance at her self-pity becomes a flood. 'For all your grand gestures, you really don't trust me, do you?'

She blinks. 'Huh?'

'My life is at risk! Volibear's not an excuse. He'll tear me apart if I betray Sejuani. Do you think I'm lying?'

'You lied before.' Her grip relaxes. The squall is over. 'We both did.'

'I know.'

She sniffs. I think she was on the verge of tears. 'But Volibear seems okay.'

'He truly believes the greater good will be served by my death. I'm alive only because my bond with Sejuani prevents him from doing right. She may love that I'm awful, but he doesn't.'

'I can imagine,' she says with a reproachful smile. 'You're so brazen sometimes, and it drives me to distraction. You're the most attractive woman I've ever seen.'

'Oh, that's a lovely thing to hear.'

'But it would help if you covered up a little.'

'Quinn…' I pout, crossing my arms underneath my breasts.

'Yes, I know. It's my problem. You wouldn't bat an eyelid if I were dressed the same but...'

'Wouldn't I?'

She studies my face like an inquisitor glimpsing a truth.

A squeaky voice disturbs our argument. 'Ooh, there you are! I was hoping I'd catch you lovebirds!' I see Lux, waving her sceptre like a dancer's baton.

Quinn avoids eye contact. 'Oh no, what does she want?'

Lux beams at us with rank insincerity. While Jarvan and I were negotiating, she was a nightmare, bombarding us with trivial questions, leaping on discrepancies and shamelessly trying every lock within our grounds. She's brilliant, inquisitive and frustrated, a perilous combination.

I wonder what game she's playing. 'So you've caught us. I take it you saw everything in Jarvan's war room?'

'Of course, clever clogs. You messed up and Quinn saved you. She's full of surprises, don't you think?'

We both look at Quinn, who fidgets under the scrutiny. 'She is,' I concur. 'Good surprises.'

Quinn says nothing. Lux rolls her eyes. 'Ignorant as always, not even a "thank you". Cat's out of the bag, you know? Can't seduce the queen of the Freljord and act all shy.'

Quinn says, 'What do you want? Are you here to make fun of me because you've been grounded?' Lux opens her mouth wide in exaggerated offence. 'Lux was eager to join us, far too eager, so His Majesty put her on scrivener duty.'

Lux waves off the blow. 'Call him Jarvan. Everyone else does and you're his golden girl.'

'I'm in disgrace!'

'You're so not and you don't realise it.' Lux winks at me. 'Sorry to bore you with our gossip, Ashe. I came here to make a simple offer but you know Quinn. She's a prickly pear who has to cause trouble.'

I say, 'She's under enough pressure without your teasing.'

'I'm not teasing. I'm jealous! I thought _I'd_ been pushing boundaries only to see Quinn race ahead. I'm yesterday's news!'

'Whatever your intent, you're clearly distressing her. Get to the point.'

'Okie dokie. Thing is, I need some reagents. Apparently, the Shadow Isles have trees, grass and flowers growing in dead soil, forms of life without life. Anything in bloom could accelerate my… _our_ studies by decades!'

I'm no mage but it sounds like Jarvan's left hand is dabbling in necromancy. This may be useful if I have to blackmail him again. 'Why should I give you such an advantage?'

'I'm not asking you,' says Lux. 'I'm asking Quinn.'

She frowns. 'Why should I help you destroy us with your profane experiments if His Majesty's told you no?'

'Why not? You defied him to help Ashe.'

'I challenged him to save a life, a soul, a _nation_. You just want more power.'

'With more power, I could save people across Runeterra, fill the tummies of Demacians and overcome their idiot superstitions.' Lux spits the word "idiot" with uncharacteristic venom. 'But you'd rather sacrifice all for some barbarian you've never met, a woman who will either prolong a bloody conflict or steal Ashe away from you.'

Quinn says quietly, 'She was never mine.'

But for one night under the stars, I was truly hers. Quinn's denial crushes my spirit. I guess I've been doing the same to her. Maybe she's come to believe there was no meaning. I could remind her otherwise but I can't imagine a crueller kindness, better that she forget.

Lux arches her back and leans into Quinn's face. 'Then find someone who is.'

I nearly bite through my knuckles while Quinn refuses to hear the obvious. 'You think it's that easy? People like me don't exist in Demacia.'

'Neither do mages, apparently, but I'm standing right in front of you.' Lux reaches out for Quinn's jaw. 'Bring me flowers, and we can go on a date.'

'You… you can't be serious!' Quinn squirms. 'Do you think I'm so easily bought?'

'I worked with espionage. I know places where like-minded women gather, right under our feet. You'll never be alone.' Quinn's interest is plain to the world. 'You like that, sweetie? Go get some flowers and show me a good time. You'll thank me for the rest of your life.'

Quinn freezes. 'Wait. You're not selling yourself. You're buying me?'

'Have you seen the boys I date? You're totally my type, and I'm all about new experiences.'

'I'm a person, Lux, not an experience!'

'Aw, come on, I wouldn't be offering, if I weren't interested in _you_. Beneath the mousey farm girl is a fiery rebel, threatening princes and seducing queens. Tell me that isn't hot!'

When I see Lux reach for Quinn's waist, I nearly shout, 'You've made your offer. She hasn't accepted yet.'

Lux rounds on me. 'I'm sure Quinn is perfectly capable of telling me herself.'

Quinn says, 'I'm okay, both of you.'

'Good.' Lux's smile is all teeth and fury. 'Remember, if Ashe won't look after you, others will.'

I say flatly, 'That's reassuring.'

'Isn't it just? A shame, we never got to play together. I could have had Sejuani and Lissandra at your feet, if you'd only crossed your legs.'

I swallow my pride. She's not wrong. 'You spent a lot of time and effort on our civil war but I squandered everything. I'm sorry, Luxanna.'

She touches her face, a rare sign of unease. 'I accept your apology. You'd be amazed at how rarely I deserve one. But you've cost your people far more than you'll ever cost me.' Her eyes droop. I'm suddenly mindful that she wears a lot of makeup, and her hair's a different shade from Garen's. 'After Quinn's tattle-tale, I argued your case until my throat was raw. I believed uniting your country was more important than backing a good side and fighting a good war.' She spits when she's passionate. I was happier not knowing that. 'Ashe, why don't you just rout Sejuani before saving her? Your pretty-pony-winning-through-love story may not come true but otherwise you'll risk her turning nasty when she's all fighting fit.'

'She told me the same thing,' I say, 'But I can't give her everything she wants. We don't have that sort of relationship.'

'Lie to me then. I'm beginning to think you want your struggle to last forever, but there's always a path out of the darkness. You just have to follow the light.' She smacks her own hip and says to Quinn, 'I'm serious, totally, totally serious, cutie-pie. Don't feel you have to suffer.'

Quinn's guard is back up. 'I can pursue my own happiness.' The steel in her voice quickens my blood.

Lux giggles. 'Of course you can, silly. That's why Luxie-baby offered. Whatever happens, we need to play more often.' She turns to me. 'And as for you, sort your life out. I almost looked up to you, and I don't like being wrong.'

Since when did she look up to anyone? I'd only felt inadequate in her presence. 'It means a lot to hear that. You're a brilliant young woman. You never needed a role model.'

'We all need something bigger than ourselves.' Lux waves to me then blows a kiss to Quinn. 'Be safe, okay? Life's dull enough without you two.'

She goes. Quinn and I stand in awkward silence. I'm about to speak when she interrupts me. 'Don't say it.'

'Hmm?'

'You're telling me to give her what she wants.'

'I think you should.'

'Forget it. She's kept on a short leash for good reason.' Quinn lowers her voice. Lux must have eyes and ears everywhere. 'She's dangerous. There are no good mages in Demacia.'

'Then take hold of that leash. Your secrets are known. She has every advantage to lose.'

'Unless we give her to keys to the universe.'

'That's unlikely. The dead flowers may be valuable to her, but I think your confidence is what she truly needs.'

'Why?'

'Because you're another outsider with the power to shape history. She has to keep you close, even at her expense.' I allow my gaze to dwell on Quinn's body. 'As for her personal interest, she's made that clear enough.'

'I can barely talk to people, let alone shape history. And she doesn't find me attractive. She just wants to humiliate me.'

'Those aren't mutually exclusive.' I look at my hands and recall them on Sejuani's chest.

'What? How could you hurt someone you…?'

'Forget it.' She'll understand on her own or not at all, but I fear she has the seed. Otherwise, we may not have lain together. 'Why should _you_ feel embarrassed? She won't be half as insufferable once you've pinned her to the sheets and made her sing.'

'You don't seriously think I could...?'

'Yes, definitely.'

She studies me, as if following tracks in my mind. 'No, we're not giving Lux any more toys. Nothing good will come of that.'

'Okay,' I say brightly.

_The Syren_ is loaded. Quinn says, 'We're off. I was hoping we could be honest for longer.'

'We'll get our chances to be mad at each other. Don't worry.'

'I'm not mad at you, I'm just…'

'I think you are.' She doesn't answer. 'You've got every right after you've done so much.'

'I…'

'Remember that I can only disappoint you. Don't sell your soul for the dregs of mine. Queen or not, I'm too slight a woman to be shared amongst all. You can't water barren soil with your blood.'

'I'm a person, Ashe, not a stain on your conscience. My life is mine to risk. I believe in your mission. When I was afraid and alone, I found solace in your land. Other broken people of Demacia… no… _Runeterra_ deserve the same.' She closes the distance. 'Do you believe me?'

_You believe no one, as your heritage implores. I'm sorry._

'Of course, I believe you.'

Quinn senses my conflict. She draws nearer. 'Then what are you scared of, Ashe?'

_Everything_.

'Everything.'

An answer, both complete and evasive. Quinn withdraws. 'Even if you're scared, you make me feel braver than anything I've known. I just wish you could see that.'

Sarah calls, 'Yoohoo, ladies, come on! I'm sick of this place already.'

Pulling away from Quinn, I sprint for the boarding ramp. The waves bounce in time with my gut. As I lose my balance, I feel Quinn at my back, ready to catch and engulf me.

Volibear says, 'Keep walking, on all fours if you must.'

I grab onto his voice like it's a chain. Sejuani, I won't fall yet.


	26. Faith - Chapter 9

**Faith – Chapter 9**

I'd imagined sun and spray caressing my skin as I swung through the rigging like a child at play.

Instead, I got sea-sick. Walking in a straight line is impossible. I can't enter communal areas without a round of applause greeting every success and failure.

There's so much I'm denied. I can't watch the waves and sky from above decks. In better circumstances, I'd have loved the cramped intimacy of my cabin, yet I can't risk sharing it. No more discussions with Quinn over bottles of wine or whiskey.

The things I would do for one simple chat. My outlets vanish one by one. I destroy them quicker than battle ever could.

And I'm on my period. As if my stomach wasn't cramping enough.

* * *

I lurch across the deck. Volibear sits cross-legged before the rising sun. He is firm, upright and immovable while the sea reduces my limbs to gelatine.

I collapse over the railing. He says, 'You are spoiling my view.'

'Sorry… accident. Are you meditating?'

'I _was_, but if I were not open to diversion, I would have chosen a different spot.' His posture relaxes. 'On occasion, you must wait in place for the world to challenge you. Sometimes, activity conceals flight.' I hear a smile in his voice. 'A convenient excuse for many cowards, yet I remember those words clearer than a lot of "noble" wisdom.'

'You have to remain open to different ways of thinking.'

'Yes.' He watches me carefully. 'Before, I'd have questioned your belief in such, interesting. Is that a sign of your personal development, or a moral vacuum?'

'Both, and your conclusion says more about you.'

He chuckles. 'That is fair. I'll have to think on it.'

'You're in a good mood.'

'I am. We're making swift progress to a land where my skills are relevant, and I relish contemplating the sun. It is a storm defined by constancy rather than chaos, an intriguing paradox. And I love water. If only I could swim and find my way back without damaging the hull.'

'There must be a way. I'll ask Sarah to drop the biggest lifeboat.'

'Oh no, my recreation is unimportant, and I'd rather not endure her scrutiny.'

'She does like you.'

Volibear's fur stands on end. 'Yes, we get a lot of that from human women. It would appear that Ursine embody their masculine ideals without any of the sexual threat, so they feel free to celebrate our virtues.'

'You must be grateful Sejuani and I prefer women.'

'I don't have an opinion. If it makes you happier, then I'm glad. Otherwise, it isn't my place to comment. A few inappropriate remarks aren't a burden. I feel sorrier for the race that earns attention from your men.'

'Which race?' My heart sinks. 'Yordles?'

'If that is the case, I pray the void consumes us all.'

I laugh. 'You know something, Volibear?'

'What?'

'I'm glad we can speak like this.'

'I'd rather we didn't.' How disappointing. 'As it is, I'm only mortal and I need company like anyone. You're the sole person I can talk to right now. We share experiences, even if your perspective differs.'

'You have options. Quinn is a good listener.'

'She's too young, and far too swept up in everything. I doubt she considers more than a month ahead or gone.'

'You're being unfair,' but accurate, I silently concede. 'She has broader horizons than her countrymen.'

'I can believe that but I find her exhausting.'

'Showing your age?'

'Yes, even allowing for such, I'm hard on youth. When your benchmark is a great leader with insight beyond her years, others do fall short.' I treasure these moments when Volibear talks about Sejuani. However much I stumble, I know his love and esteem are eternal. 'When she's in full battledress and free of doubt, she looks ageless, rather than a sensitive girl of twenty-three short winters.'

Time freezes. My jaw rattles in a mockery of speech. 'I… t… twenty-three? She's… twenty-three?'

'Yes, her birth was an omen so the Winter's Claw made a point of recording… Ashe?'

I hear the thunk of tears bouncing off the deck. Rivers are pouring and I can't feel them. It's like an invisible knife has parted my ducts and I'm bleeding rather than crying. 'She… I… I never once… I thought we were the same age! Oh, Sejuani... my… little Sejuani… my poor little Sejuani!'

My past is torn up and rewritten. I no longer see my proud, implacable foe, my princess leading her armies, worshipping at my feet and weeping at my violation. I see a confused, lonely girl reaching out for my hand as we go to lessons, my poor little Sejuani.

For a moment, I think Volibear's going to shoulder me but no. 'She's not your child, Ashe. Whatever pain you've wrought is a debt between equals. You owe her that respect.'

'I know but…'

'You can't help feeling as you do,' Volibear says with quiet understanding. 'She's not my child either.'

'Don't say that. I'd rather hear you lie a thousand times than say that. Your devotion inspires me.'

'Then I question its worth. What use is a love that nourishes darkness?'

'That is my dilemma, not yours.'

'Perhaps it is neither of ours. Young or not, she has her own counsel.' The sun passes behind a cloud. 'You must know by now. The black wolf is her companion. Even before Sejuani fell to your charms, there were episodes where she'd only sleep and starve.'

'The Winter's Claw must really cherish her.'

'They do. She's no duellist. Anyone else with her disadvantages would have been usurped. What she lacks in vigour, she overcomes with endurance, intelligence and foresight. She can do more with a candle than I, a volcano.' He leans over the guardrail, as though straining for the lost warmth.

'Perhaps the darkness gives her strength. Maybe that's why she looks beyond herself.' It would explain her atrocities, though not excuse them. What pain could be worse than existence?

'I know she would be just as brilliant, and far happier, without it. Sejuani is not her illness.'

'Of course, but she pays a heavy price to be who she is. Try telling her _I'm_ not my demons. You won't get very far.'

'She may be right, regarding _you_.' Volibear looks away. His next words are a shameful admission. 'But I'm grateful your demons have bought us passage. Your part is over. The Shadow Isles will be _my_ proving.'

Resolve charges the air as he leaves. I say to the wind. 'You've proven yourself already, Volibear.'

He wheels to face me. 'Then why do we carve up the Freljord? Save your honeyed words for Quinn. I'd sooner have your opposition.'

I'd forgotten about his hearing. Every seed of my approval sows doubt in his mind. For the sake of our mission, we shouldn't get too close.

Perhaps I shouldn't get close to anyone. If only I could love my own company.


	27. Faith - Chapter 10

**Faith – Chapter 10**

One great relief is that I have the privacy to masturbate after a month near people with heightened senses. I could have snuck a few minutes here and there but I don't like rushing. I like to fantasise. I like to feel warm. If I can't have a body, I need a blanket, an embrace of a kind.

I can escape the world. I can fix my problems, renew my devotion to Sejuani and sate my hunger for Quinn.

I picture them both. I imagine others taking responsibility for them, punishing my failings.

I direct a scene where Quinn becomes Jarvan's bride. She's lying on her back while Jarvan's lean, hairy buttocks pump between her spread thighs. Her fingers tremble upon his back. She doesn't care for his masculine form but she's getting fucked well and it feels good. She's the Queen of Demacia, fulfilling her duty by reaching orgasm, over and over, night after night.

I could never compete with my furtive, poisonous love.

As Jarvan rises on locked arms to drive deeper, Quinn's breasts are lost in a shadowy blur. She wouldn't let me see them so the fantasy flickers then disperses. Picturing them is a violation too far.

So I move on, changing places with Sejuani, giving her the life I had. She looks regal in my dress and her crystal helmet. She marries Tryndamere. For her, it is no different from collaring a slave.

It is the night of the wedding. Sejuani keeps it simple. She hoists her own skirt, ensures her comfort with a generous amount of wheel grease, then informs Tryndamere her pleasure is beyond his remit.

For a minute or so, the room is quiet, except for the slapping of skin and irregular breathing.

Sejuani says, 'Done?'

Both of them exchange satisfied glances, like they've discovered a quick way of peeling a hundred potatoes, or weeding a garden.

With no painful experience holding them back, Sejuani and Tryndamere co-operate on having efficient, regular sex. Eventually, they grow comfortable enough that instead of grease, they use oral. I'm aroused and appalled at how their mighty bodies complement each other, and at how beautiful Sejuani looks when she's performing fellatio. There's no way she'd willingly do it for my foul catharsis.

I'm desperate to believe that she can enjoy loveless mating, free of the hooks of emotion that compel her to suffer my appetite.

When she becomes pregnant, she relaxes into her new role, forsaking war and filling her days with gentle activity. She takes up woodwork and wondrous creatures leap from her mind's eye. They stand in a protective arc around her baby's cot.

Sejuani wears her helmet less and less before stashing it away for a new generation of warriors.

Time passes. Muscle relaxes into flesh, widening her bottom and thighs. Bathed in sunlight, she holds up old armour before a mirror, sighing at her new proportions. Graciously, she gives up on transcendence and becomes a stern yet wise mother to her clan.

Tryndamere finally knows joy. He spoils the kids rotten, and makes a fuss of Sejuani's matronly form. She's more flattered than she lets on, and rewards him for good behaviour. He cheerfully accepts any boon without pressure or complaint. Their coupling persists beyond that of many passionate lovers.

It is… contentment.

I gaze into the night, arms on top of my blanket. When did I stop? Was my fantasy how the story should have gone? It was a peaceful, imperfect world with moments of happiness. There wasn't a meddling wretch called Ashe, destroying everyone for "love".

Wanting a place to hide forever, I pull the bedclothes over my head. As I roll onto my front, I grind into the lumpy mattress, aching for release. There's no way I'm sleeping until I finish what I started. I push my knuckles beneath my crotch and silence my grunts with a pillow.

I have to be quick and ruthless. Dwelling on my twisted, erotic innerscape will destroy me.

Sejuani wants Ashe the conqueror, the marauder, clad in black armour, festooned with barbs. I crush her tribe under my heel. Dragging her naked through the mud, I vow to destroy her legacy. I stake her to the ground on all fours then invite the whole Freljord to fuck her senseless. The Winter's Wrath will be known as the Winter's Whore.

Leaning in, I kiss her neck and stroke her back. I relish every tell-tale flex of muscle. Her trunk ripples from each thrust and slap. I don't think I've known a body so tough yet overtly sexual. Her enormous bosom and hind are a pornographic ideal. She can take all the pounding I can give her.

She clamps her jaws, pretending she can't feel it. I whisper, my tongue lapping at her ear, that she will come, however much she resists. Eventually, she will beg for it. She may defy me now but when she's broken, she'll be safe and happy, because I'll be there to look after her… my poor little Sejuani.

My brain snaps.

I don't want to come. As the warmth grows, I tremble. I can't subdue the filth pulsing through my core. My teeth rip a hole in the pillow. Down sprays across the room. Falling onto my back, I stare into the void and see my reflection.

I scream.

* * *

Footsteps approach like rats running over a coffin. I've woken up everyone. Volibear shouts, 'Ashe? What's happening?'

I feel the sea churn as I crawl to the door. 'Sorry,' I mumble, as if my low voice could send the crew back to sleep. 'Nothing's wrong. It was just a nightmare.'

'Do you remember anything? We're close to the Shadow Isles. The veil is growing thin. Your nightmare could have been a vision.'

I have to lie. 'Sorry, Volibear, I can't.'

'Fine,' he says. 'I won't force you to recall it but your information could save lives.'

Or give him nightmares in turn. 'Okay.'

While Volibear disperses the crowd, I hear a softer voice. 'Um, Ashe?'

'Quinn?'

'Are you going to be all right? Would it help if I stayed?'

I shouldn't risk my failing virtue but I'm scared of being alone with my thoughts. 'I don't have much room but I can sleep on the floor if you…'

'Don't be silly. Give me two minutes and I'll fetch my covers.'

There was only one spare cabin. Volibear couldn't fit anywhere private, so he chose the hold, where few people bothered him. Quinn, to my surprise, refused any personal accommodation to bunk with the crew. Sarah contended a plain girl with a mule's kick would have a peaceful time, compared with the "lusty barbarian wench". I have a long way to go before people respect our culture.

Quinn returns. I hear the rustling of her clothes, and every motion of her tongue and lips. I hear them touch and separate, swallow and sigh. Everything feels closer in the dark.

Furniture scrapes. Items clatter. 'Are you sure there's enough room?'

'Yeah, I'm only small.' She nestles into her bedding with a little growl of contentment. 'Oh, this is nice. You can feel the waves better this way.'

'I'm sorry that we can't share but…'

'I know,' she says with enough gentle force to shift our conversation. 'Do you want to talk about your nightmare?' Not really but she chases me down. 'Was it about Sejuani?'

'Yes, I was torturing her, making her do things… and I was enjoying it.'

'So that's why you couldn't tell Volibear.' The silence grows heavy. 'Was it because of us?'

'No. While our affair clearly bothers her more than she lets on, I don't need _you_ to punish her.'

'Oh.' Quinn's disappointed.

'You give me cause for guilt in other ways. Our act isn't fair on you at all.'

'You're the one having nightmares.'

'I deserve them. Volibear doesn't know but I traumatised Sejuani, and she loves me for it.'

'How?'

Quinn, even a teenager like you must have some idea but you insist upon my humanity. 'That is for her to say. Forgive me if that sounds like an excuse but she's a proud woman. Just assume the worst.'

'Yet she loves you.'

'She does. I worry that I'll have to choose between accepting that love and keeping her safe. The further we go, the less I believe I can do both.'

'Can't _she_ make that choice? What if you're worth the risk?' She's persuading me to accept someone's loyalty, but it's not Sejuani's.

'I rarely feel that I'm worth it. If I could save her then…'

'We'll save her.'

'Thank you.' Conviction is dangerously potent when expressed by a Demacian. 'I once believed I could unite us all with love, understanding and determination. When I found Sejuani, my dream came true, but also real.'

'It was the same for me,' says Quinn. 'I dreamt of becoming a knight and rescuing some fair maiden.' We both giggle. 'I thought everything would work out if I tried enough to do the right thing. All I did was cause trouble.'

'That's not a bad thing. We all need some trouble in our lives.'

'Let's hope His Majesty feels the same. He's been really quiet since our argument.'

'He sounded remorseful, if anything.'

'Of course, he went out of his way to promote a common scout, and I made him look a fool.'

I knew it. Sejuani was right. 'You were chosen by Jarvan himself?'

'Yeah, no recommendations or anything. He just showed up at our lodge and um… I was bundled into his carriage.' She laughs. 'I was curled up on the seat away from his legs. If the space were made for two people, it wasn't made for him.'

'Did they put him on the rack as a child?'

'We sometimes wonder. He bombarded me with questions about my family, my personal situation. I felt like a suspect.'

She can't be this blind, surely. 'Erm… Quinn?'

'Yes?'

'I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer without any quibbling.'

'I… um… what is it?'

'If Jarvan proposed, what would you say?'

Quinn bounces off the floor, banging my desk so hard that I wince. 'Pro… proposed? As in…?'

'Queen of Demacia.'

'Me? But…'

'Yes, you.' Quinn sounds like she's gasping for air. I press on. 'Don't act like you haven't thought about it. You're free of politics, a national hero, someone with a common touch. Within Jarvan's entourage, you're the prime candidate. What would you say?'

'But I can't, I'd have to provide an heir and…'

'Are you sterile?'

'How could I possibly know?' says Quinn. 'But that isn't the point. I can't sleep with a man. I can't have kids, ever.'

'Would you give your life for Demacia?'

'Of course!'

'Then how is this asking any more of you?'

'Because I'd rather die as me than live as someone else.'

'We change from day to day, Quinn. I've been so many people that I'm a stranger to myself,' or I've become too familiar. 'What if by changing yourself, you could change Demacia?'

'Change Demacia? How?'

'You tell me.'

'Well…' I hear her scratching. 'I'd want fairer taxes for small farmers. The flat rate is meant to reward hard work. In practice, the big farms gobble up the rest and abuse their privilege.'

'You speak from experience?'

'My family survive through goodwill but there's little future in that. Only so many times a neighbour will buy from you if it costs their child a new pair of shoes.'

'Okay, that's one thing. What else?'

Quinn grows in confidence. 'I'd repeal the sodomy laws. Inverted women don't exist, apparently, but if we can spare the men from castration and imprisonment, we could save lives, and gather support for our own cause.'

'Go on.'

She's in full flow. 'I'd replace conscription with national service. Everyone gets training and we'd have a more realistic idea of our standing army. We lose battles, left, right and centre because we think every peasant under twenty-five can swing a club.'

'If it would achieve all that, would you have children?'

Quinn chokes. 'I… I don't know. Maybe?' I think she's crying. 'I'm scared. It will hurt, and I'm still young and…'

'You're an adult. Even if you don't feel like one, people will expect you to fill that role.'

'But why are _you_ saying all this? You of all people should understand!'

'I do, which is why I'm telling you to prepare yourself before it's too late. Other people will come at you with the same arguments I have. You need answers, not mine, not Jarvan's, but your _own_.'

'But I have an answer, it's…'

'You hesitated. When confronted with all you could achieve by saying "yes", you nearly folded. If you don't weigh your priorities, you will be defenceless, and you will be forced into a choice between compliance and oblivion. I was reckless enough to choose both. You saw where that led.'

'Okay.' She gathers her will. 'Queen of Demacia, do you really see that?'

'I think you'd go down in history, the brave little farm girl, earning recognition through grace of heart and force of arms. You'd be an inspiration.'

'Would I be selfish to walk away?'

'Not if there's a good reason. I made a lot of mistakes being "selfless".'

'Well, I'm glad I was one of them.' I can hear her smile. 'How did we end up discussing my marriage prospects when you're the one who's upset?'

'You've answered your own question. I'm going to sleep. Thank you for being here, and I'm sorry for giving you cause to worry.'

'Don't apologise. You were my first love, Ashe. I've missed you so much.'

'I missed you too, Quinn. So long as I'm not your last, I'm happy to be your first.'

'Ashe?'

'Hmm?'

'Can I hold your hand?'

'…Yes.'

Reaching out, she touches my knee by mistake. Her nails brush the sensitive rise of my lower thigh before sliding across my palm. She crushes my hand. I picture my body falling over into her tireless grip until I slip away.

* * *

After a beautiful, dreamless night, a voice urges me to wake. 'Ashe?'

I hear Quinn but I can't respond. I'm drunk on stasis.

I feel the blanket around my waist, her gaze upon my bare chest.

'You're like a painting.' Respectful touches draw the covers to my neck. 'I don't like the thought of you having nightmares when you look so peaceful. You never seem at ease. I'd feel better knowing you had some respite.'

She plays with my hair, sketching little patterns across my cheek.

'Sorry for tempting you again but…' her lips rest on mine. She places her offering and retreats without further claim. 'I never got a chance to kiss you goodbye when I first left your palace, and I may never get a chance again, so… goodbye.'

Quinn leaves with a tiny piece of my soul. I'm breathless like a fish on dry land. I have to let her go but all I want is my little piece back.

I can't have everything, so I grieve.


	28. Faith - Chapter 11

**Faith – Chapter 11**

After my screaming fit, I'd prepared for mockery from Sarah's crew but the mood was disturbingly sombre.

The skies are grey. The sun is bleached of radiance. Above, the sails droop like rotting flaps of skin. Without wind or rain, I can't feel the change from below decks to fresh air. The great outdoors are a lifeless prison.

Everyone's constantly moving, as if to shake off the claustrophobia. Sarah prowls the stern, watching yellow smoke emerge from a dull metal chimney. The smell is weak. I fear my senses are fading with the world.

Even Sarah's banter sounds tired. 'You're a marvel. The sea's flat as a board and you're still wobbly.' Her hair is clearly damaged. There are cracks in her façade.

'At least I can provide some entertainment after waking you all up. Sorry for the disturbance.'

'Don't worry about it. Everyone's on edge. I couldn't sleep either.' She rubs her eyes. They're shot through with blood. 'Sole reason I'm upright is because of this damn engine. I can't relax when it's on.'

'What is it?'

'Some weird Zaun bullshit. You chuck anything inside and it unravels the…' She waves. 'Pfft, I don't know. Point is, you feed it, we move. If you want to go quick, you feed it corpses.'

'How did you…?'

'People fight us. We chop 'em, salt 'em and serve 'em. Don't act all innocent. You'd have tried it as well.'

'I've organised enough pyres.' The moral high ground seems very distant. 'How close are we?'

'Four days without wind. From past experience, we've got enough juice to limp ashore, but if the Shadow Isles aren't full of bodies, we'll be stranded.' She shrugs. 'I'm pretty hopeful.'

'And if there's nothing?'

'We draw lots, or pray that we get struck by lightning.'

'Volibear could help with that.' I wish I knew more about engines. 'What uses lightning?'

'I've got an experimental thruster that runs off it. We can escape anything when it's fully primed. Obviously, there's a catch.'

'Is it worse than feeding someone to the Zaun furnace?'

'Kind of. The thruster shakes the hull to pieces. Only worth the risk if you can feel death's hand on your thigh.'

The sea watches like a sleeping dragon. 'At least we'd all sink or swim together.'

'Not my style, babe. Also, the coils disintegrate anyone stupid enough to go near. Maybe the holy storm or whatnot will protect Voli, but you know his powers better than I do.'

'He can regenerate. If there are limits, I'd rather not see them.'

'It's all good. I'm sure our destination is a graveyard.' We hear laughter from below. Sarah cocks an eyebrow then looks over the railing. 'Someone's cheerful.'

I stare hard enough that my nerves twinge. A group of deckhands are chatting with a… confidently dressed young woman. Quinn is wearing a _bodice_. I can spy the top of her breasts. A pretty mole crowns one fair slope. Her tight leggings are on display to the world without her cloak to hide them. I think the deckhands are complimenting her. She flutters her eyes and sways her hips. I'm stunned.

Sarah brightens. 'Our little Demacian's come out of her shell. Can't say I blame her, growing up in a puritanical shithole. I hope she bangs everyone. It'll do wonders for morale.'

I feel betrayed. Quinn and I had shared all except her natural hair colour and chest. I'd accepted her boundaries with grace. Now she's flaunting herself to men.

Is this revenge?

Sarah prods me. 'You're getting ideas, aren't you? By the kraken, if a bit of boob's all it takes for you to jump ship, I'd have worn a higher top.'

I gather my composure. 'Where did she get that from?'

'You have to ask? She came to me for advice.'

'Quinn spoke to _you_?'

'Like you barbarians know anything about fashion. Quinn's fit as a fiddle, so all she has to do is wear clothes that fit.' She chuckles at her own wordplay. 'When I told her that, she got flustered. Apparently, she wanted to feel more like a woman.'

'She is a woman.'

'Yeah, go on. Say the right things if you must. We both know she looks like a boy.'

'She's too pretty.'

Sarah looks at me with suspicion. 'Boys are pretty. Did you seriously think she was a girl when you first saw her?'

'…No.' Please don't ask if I found her attractive because of that. Every answer would incriminate me.

'Well then, easiest fix was to get her tits out. She wouldn't change in front of me, so I dug out something adjustable and showed her the laces. I'm glad she went through with it. She's a nice girl, down to earth, popular with the crew, still don't think she'll be much use battling wraiths but we got Volibear for that.'

'She told me she hated her breasts.'

'Really? Didn't think you were close enough to share that kind of thing.' Sarah's far too curious about our relationship. I hope she's digging for sport, rather than advantage.

'Weren't you two swapping clothes? There's a lot she can tell us that she can't tell other Demacians.'

'Point taken.'

'Either way, that's a huge leap for Quinn. I don't know what to make of it.'

'Ah… they grow up so fast.' Sarah's eyes flicker. 'You got any kids, Ashe?'

'No, sadly.'

'Barren?'

'It's complicated.'

'I'm surprised. You're Queen, right? Shouldn't you provide an heir before gallivanting off to the Shadow Isles?'

'Yes.' I recall Sejuani's threat of endless war should I bear someone else's child. She has a very poor grasp of her own jealousy. There's no spectrum. She claims total indifference to my affairs and expresses all-consuming rage at a dynastical obligation. We're both aware that our bloodlines have to continue but we don't have a solution.

Regardless of how things resolve, I'd love to see her kids one day. Perhaps I'm foolish, advancing motherhood as an easy cure for Sejuani's tangled psyche, but I need fragments of hope.

I feel Sarah's anticipation. Sorry but I'll have to deflect. 'What about you?'

'Kind of.'

'What?'

'Well, you got nothing to do with Bilgewater, so… yeah, I've got a daughter, somewhere.' She grips the railing with both hands. 'When I was young, I took full advantage of my body. Sex and vengeance were my reasons to live. You suck off a merchant, you get a discount on hextech rounds and another bounty. Soon, I had a rep as a good shot and a good fuck. Life was bearable… until I missed a period.'

'I think we've all been reckless.'

'I was more than reckless. I was in total denial. "Oh, _I_ can't be knocked up. I got no time! I gotta do this. I gotta do that." Thought if I carried on, like I weren't expecting, it would fix itself, that I'd eat uncooked shrimp and shit everything out… what a fucking idiot.

'Once I came to my senses, I got really scared. I locked myself in a room, thinking if I stayed in one place… if I didn't see the sun rise… then time would stop. I blacked out all the windows, rammed little bits of cork into my lugholes to silence everyone passing. You know, hawkers telling you it's morning, whores telling you it's night. You're supposed to feel this rainbow of emotion but all I felt was dread. I wasn't even hungry, like, how's that supposed to work?'

'I guess it's different for all of us.'

'Yeah, but you'd think there'd be some things in common. Eventually, I… er… can't remember the…' She covers her face. 'No… _I_ can. It's my _body_ that doesn't remember. After all that pain and pressure, my back should be at a right angle and my snatch, wide as a cannonball. When I look over my skinny waist and feel my hipbones, I wonder if it was all a dream. Everything works. A whole year of my life was just a nightmare from which I got up.'

'What happened to your daughter?'

'When she was born, I felt a kind of peace, like all my bounty-hunting instincts came rushing back. I knew exactly what to do. I never touched her skin with mine. I didn't say anything. I didn't give her a name. Once I'd recovered, I left her at an orphanage and it was over. She came into the world, wept and vanished like a summer storm, so many lives told in one.'

'Do you know if she's…?'

'Alive? No, too dangerous. I can't afford any weaknesses.'

I hold my tongue to give her space but the lifeless atmosphere is too grim to bear. 'Do you think about her?'

'Not really. She was a terrible mistake, and she's better off with people who think otherwise.'

'Perhaps one day, you'll be…'

'No, the tale ended seven years ago. There's no follow up. If we laid eyes on each other, we'd walk on by. She wouldn't see her mother.'

'Seven years…' I can't imagine having a child that grown. 'How old are you, Sarah?'

'Depends on who's asking. If we're not likely to fuck, I'm twenty-six.'

'You're the same age as me, and you were Quinn's age when…' I can't finish the sentence.

'I guess. That how old she is? I thought she was twelve. You can do maths, right?'

I kick at Sarah's heels. Quinn is talking to yet another group of men. I stare until she notices. There's a break in their conversation while she watches me with blank intensity. Her admirers glimpse their fearsome captain and run for their lives.

How should I react? Why is Quinn doing this? After a tense moment, she waves, an awkward, sad little gesture, then leaps onto the rigging. She has long legs for her small body. Her muscles coil and extend all the way to the crow's nest.

I realise what she was waiting for, my hesitation, proof that I'm considering every move because of her.

Sarah frowns. 'What was that all about? "Look at me, big sis!" Are you leading her astray?'

'Perhaps.'

'Right on, babe. We'll corrupt all of Demacia before we're chased out of town.'

'Assuming we survive.'

'Gotta plan for tomorrow. Never know when it will come.'

'You're right.' We can't always trust we'll have an early grave in which to hide. 'Sorry for bringing you down.'

'You didn't. I rarely get a chance to level, so I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy.' She rests her cheek on her palm. 'I think you had it worse. Can't be fun hearing about someone who gave up their kid like it was nothing.'

'You shouldn't have to change your feelings to spare mine.'

'Goes both ways. You can be pissed off. I can take it.'

'Thanks.' I believe her. 'You're a good woman, Sarah.'

'Why? For being civil when nothing's at stake?' She turns up her nose. 'I'm a heartless bitch otherwise, don't you forget it. Only reason I'm being sweet is because I got something in return. A sympathetic ear's worth more than gold in Bilgewater.'

'Then all you have to do is keep finding reasons to be sweet.'

'You don't ask for much. What are yours then? Destiny, power, love?'

'Power makes me cruel, and love makes me crueller still. As for destiny, perhaps I'm a rock in destiny's river, blocking all progress until I'm cast aside.'

'Eh, the world's a messed up place. If you go blaming yourself, you won't change what you can,' she says. 'Every chapter of my life consists of me getting five big things wrong and a hundred little things right. You don't lose it all by getting pregnant. You lose it all by not oiling your guns, locking your room or cooking your fish right.'

'If we succeed, I might achieve the impossible and ruin everything else.'

'You left some bodies in your wake?'

'We'll see.' Quinn, Volibear and I have all crossed our own. We may not suffer but our lives will never be the same. 'Perhaps I'll restring and wax my bow, make a start on those little things.'

'Sounds like a plan.' Sarah gives my hip a firm smack. 'Whatever happens, I've enjoyed our little chats. Even if you keep staring at my tits.'

'You wish.' I have trouble taking them seriously.

'Only kidding. You're into little boys.' Winking, Sarah points upwards. 'You bunk up last night? Would explain why she's all frisky today.'

'Leave her alone.'

'Ain't her I'm winding up.' Sarah leaves with a twirl and shimmy. Halfway across the deck, she calls out, 'You should fuck her brains out while you've got the chance! Die with no regrets!'

'I'd rather lay her than you!'

Sarah bursts out laughing and retires to her cabin.


	29. Faith - Chapter 12

**Faith – Chapter 12**

The Shadow Isles defied expectation. I'd imagined endless night, and the clammy, cold air of a newly dug autumn grave. The sun rises just like anywhere else, bathing the dry, broken trees in fossil grey. Breathing is difficult, every lungful shorn of moisture. My hands are like weather-blasted outcroppings, with deep lines bleeding sand.

Am I now cursed? Is this undeath?

No, my response to a limber Quinn, bouncing from calf to calf in joyful indulgence of her body, confirms I'm very much alive.

While most of us are fading, Volibear and Quinn are vibrant. I'm unsure if they're driven by heroism or reckless abandon. Valor circles above, relaxed as ever. Free from our cares, he might prove a decent lodestone.

As I descend the boarding ramp like an invalid, a blow from behind knocks the wind out of me. The ground rushes up. I blink away dust, while the person responsible lies off to the side in a cloud of risen clay. Sarah grins an apology. 'Damn, girlfriend, you look as bad as I feel.'

'Was this a mistake?'

'Yeah, probably.'

Volibear pulls us to our feet. He forces me to look into his glowing eyes until I go blind with colour, then does the same to Sarah. His conclusion is bleak. 'Your souls are coming untethered. You should remain in case the worst happens.'

I find strength in defiance. 'We're in this together.'

'Your vulnerability will slow us down.'

'Or work as bait. If you truly believe I'll jeopardise our mission, you'll have to strike me dead.'

Volibear sounds tempted. 'As you will.' He relents, for now.

Sarah brandishes her guns. 'Count me in. I'll find the sodden bastard who's terrorising Bilgewater if it kills me.'

'They'll do more than kill you,' says Volibear. 'Can your first mate get us back safely?'

'Do you think I'd employ him otherwise?'

'There are many fools in high places, but if you speak the truth, then do as you please. I needn't risk anyone to save you.'

'Cold.' Sarah gives a lewd whistle. 'I love it. You getting ready for some carnage, big boy?'

'I'll fight anyone to the death but we're at a disadvantage here. Force will not sway Kalista.'

We're stuck with our one, hitherto unspoken, plan. I reveal it. 'So we're negotiating from a position of weakness, and all we can offer is ourselves.'

'Indeed,' says Volibear without inflection.

The trees resemble gallows. Many have empty nooses, offering a home to the weary. Quinn darts under them, shadowing Valor's route. She canters from bare knoll to broken wall as if running through the pastures of home. I nudge Volibear. 'How safe is Quinn?'

'I'm unsure. There's no apparent cause for her resilience, unless you know something I don't.'

Was our affair traumatic enough to weigh down her soul? How does this work? 'What about losing her twin brother?'

'Unlikely.'

'Demacian zeal?'

'She's not a paladin.'

Sarah blows out her cheeks. 'You don't question fortune, you seize her. So Quinn's useful rather than a liability? Great. Why don't we follow her lead if we can't think of a direction?'

We head after Quinn, using Valor to track her position. I ask Volibear, 'What about him?'

'Borderline sentient, he barely registers. I doubt any hungry spirits will pay attention.'

How sad, Quinn's best friend is just another bird. 'I always thought there was more to him.'

'You needn't be so hasty. There are mysteries hidden from us all, and Valor may be one of them. I would sooner believe Quinn's judgement over mine.'

I could have embraced him after that. 'Thank you, Volibear.'

'We all need hope, Ashe, however distant.'

As we draw near, Quinn and Valor are deep in communion. Valor squawks and files away. Quinn chews on her lip. 'There's a rose garden, half a mile south.' We both remember Lux's offer.

I ask, 'Any settlements or clearings?'

'Everything's a blur to the west. Valor can't see anything.'

'A spell?'

Volibear says, 'Or a boundary.'

Sarah grunts while she corrects her posture. That affected swagger's weighing her down. 'Sailing into the void without a map ain't wise. If a monster's dull enough to grow for a hobby, they might bore us before eating us, while whatever's deeper may nosh down without foreplay.'

Volibear concurs. 'I'd have expressed it with less colour but, yes, we should investigate. Well done, Quinn.'

She bows her head. 'It was all Valor.'

Sarah gives Quinn a friendly but forceful smack, knocking her upright. 'Seriously, be grateful when people compliment you.'

Quinn grumbles her thanks, but Volibear's too busy taking charge to notice. 'I'll go first. Ashe and Sarah, keep three paces back and your weapons drawn. Quinn, you're the rearguard.'

As we fall into line, Quinn touches my arm. 'Don't,' she says.

'Don't what?'

'You know. Pick any flowers.'

Sarah hears our conversation. 'Is that something Ashe does? Kinky. Did she pick your flower, baby girl?'

Please don't put ideas into Volibear's head. 'You can save the jokes for the celebration afterwards.'

'Ooh, if you insist. I can't wait.'

* * *

Our march is arduous. The tough ground answers every step with a hammer blow. Volibear moves carefully, not walking any faster than I can hobble. He knows better than to complain without a solution but I think he'll suggest a parting of ways at the next opportunity.

Quinn ducks and dives too much. Her feral aspect is emerging. Every time she picks up a trail, I worry that she'll disappear for good.

Valor swoops and almost floors me with the down-blast from his wings. He pulls Quinn away. She raps three times on a trunk, a signal to stop.

We huddle. Volibear opens the discussion. 'What is it?'

Quinn recites, 'Eighty yards, eleven o'clock, Valor saw a humanoid figure dressed in black, heading to the rose garden. Fifteen seconds later, the figure vanished.'

'All right,' says Volibear. 'We should remain close.'

I object. 'Robes indicate a mage. If one spell hits us all, we're doomed.'

'Fair point. Should I go myself?'

'You're too valuable. I'm our bait, remember?'

'Not so fast. Even if you can't fight, you know two spells. I've taken your crystal arrow to the snout enough times.' What can I say? He's a good target. 'If we're sending our weakest, I'm afraid that's Sarah.'

She bristles. 'Don't even think about it. I bait others, not myself.'

Quinn says, 'I'll go.' We all face her. 'I've no magic and I'm fast enough to dodge anything.'

How much is she going to sacrifice before this ends? I have to talk some sense into her. 'We have goals worth dying for, Quinn. You don't. If you make every battle yours then…'

'I'm part of your mission. Do you think every soldier has a personal stake in their campaign? I've trained for this. Let me do my job.'

'You're here as Demacia's representative, not a hireling.'

'I'm here as your friend!'

'Which is why I can't…'

Sarah groans. 'I get it. You're in love, but we have to make a decision. Volibear?'

Please ignore Sarah's quip. I can't die just yet. After pondering our course, he says, 'I'm thinking we should have brought Udyr but, failing that, I believe Quinn is right.'

'Thank you,' says Quinn. She loosens her joints. 'Listen out for Valor. He'll caw if I'm safe, and screech if I'm under attack.'

I say, 'if you take any longer than three minutes, I'll conjure my hawk spirit and look for you. Stay safe.'

'And you.' Quinn scurries ahead.

I'm still nervous about Sarah's comment, so I bury my gaze into the sky. Did Avarosa feel the same weakness while posing for her statues? I wonder if her fantasies were as dark as mine.

_To me, they were not dark, only sad._

You're here?

_Not for long. Your allies are sturdy, but they are a danger to themselves._

What do you mean?

_I fear the cost as I pray for your success, my child._

Valor screeches. I project my hawk spirit through the garden. Perception blurs. Two pairs of eyes become one. I strain to follow Quinn's backflips. Explosions of negative energy leave ash in her wake. I glimpse wide pauldrons beneath a sceptre, held aloft in a skeletal grip.

'A lich,' I hiss. 'Everyone, keep your distance and watch your feet.'

Volibear drops onto his forelegs. 'I'm ready to pounce if you land your crystal arrow.'

'I'd rather save it for Kalista. We'll talk first, flee _then_ fight if we must.'

'All right.' He crashes through the trees, on his way to flank our opponent. I'm grateful that Volibear still follows my direction. He was clearly disappointed with my call.

Sarah lifts her guns like an amputee displaying war wounds. 'I got a few rounds of hextech shot, enough to make a spirit sneeze, I guess, but…' She lowers the brim of her tricorn. 'I've won enough games with a poor hand.'

'I bet. See you on the other side.'

* * *

I'm last on to the field. Sarah must have been pushing herself where I was careful. She moves recklessly on those heels.

The rose garden is arranged with care, but the flowers are the light, sickly shade of corpse-flesh. Winding around their bases are pebble-strewn paths, arranged in looping figures of eight. Above the central cluster, floats our enemy.

The lich is resplendent with pallor as he wields his sceptre like a paintbrush. His eyes glow beneath a tall mitre. Quinn is tense, ready to leap aside. As we emerge, the lich ceases attacking and regards us with leisurely confidence. 'Ah…' His voice is deep and sonorous. He relishes each word like a poet. 'Forgive my welcome. I suspected your little scout was not alone so I forced your hand with a prelude of _sturm und drang_.' He bows. 'I am Karthus.'

If the lich wants to talk instead of putrefying us, who am I to object? 'Well met, I am…'

'Oh, I'm familiar with most of you, Volibear, nursemaid of the storm, unaware of his true role, Ashe, the mortal who sees the future in a past she will never comprehend, Sarah Fortune, a careless woman pressed into caring.' He clicks an absent tongue. 'Few people are born, well-suited for this travesty called life, Captain. You started off as one of them but she who giveth also taketh it…'

Sarah punctures the sermon. '"She"?'

Karthus doesn't miss a beat, adapting like a musician to resolve dissonance. 'Of course, life is a mother, and a harlot naming her price, like you.' Sarah clams up. She's not inviting an explanation for that simile. 'No response? Your trials have blunted your famous wit.'

'You think all your hot air deserves a comeback?' While Sarah likely has one, she's eager to change the subject of her being a mother.

'I am death, and I have no comeback.' He addresses Quinn, 'You are but a shadow to me, golden girl. Mayhap your soul is of no consequence, or mayhap you are chaos walking. A blank slate is a powerful gift, wasted on Demacia, but you have already begun to spread your wings… interesting. What is your name, golden girl?'

'Quinn,' she says, with more boldness than I feel.

'Exquisite, a name with no sex or lineage. You share traits with a numbered woman from Piltover but your mystery hides within a plain costume.'

As the conversation goes on, I look for opportunities. Karthus enjoys an audience. We can use this. 'What else do you know?'

'More and less than you'd think. I hear of world affairs. Too many spirits are noisy before accepting salvation, but I'm rarely graced with the means to challenge their claims. I've given up on understanding your Freljord, such a tangled web of delusion. Your toxin runs deep and your enemies are no better.'

'My faults are many but I'm doing what I can.'

'By prolonging your civil war, collaborating with Ursine, forsaking your people… yes, you're doing as well as you can,' he says. 'Death is your only true salvation but you're not one for taking advice.'

I flatter him. 'You know me too well. How come?'

'When I crossed over, time and entropy lost all bearing. Meanwhile, you walk through the past and what is to come. We've crossed paths, trust me.' Karthus hums a passage from a strange, wandering aria. 'But we digress. What are you doing here? This is no place for the living.'

'I'm looking for Kalista. She has the soul of a woman I love.'

Karthus roars with laughter. The wet shrieking is unbearable. Quinn's head vanishes beneath her shoulders. Blood glistens from Volibear's ears. My dull human senses are a mercy.

His outburst finished, Karthus wipes an imaginary tear. 'You're here to bloody Kalista's beak? Oh my! That insufferable, artless crow deserves it. All that intelligence and ability wasted on a vulgar mathematician.' His voice lowers with contempt. 'She has the same elevation as I do but refuses to see more than two minus two becoming zero. The smug fool rejoices in answering a stupid, simple question, over and over… like a dog eating and unspooling one beloved whip of excrement.'

I can't believe my luck. 'So you'll help us?'

'Oh, I can't "help" you. Kalista holds a grudge and she's miserable enough already, but I can spare your lives and unveil the path.'

'Is there a catch?'

'You mortals and your games, everyone joins my kingdom eventually. The "catch", if you need one, is that she will cast aside your fleshy prisons like rags when you come to blows, and I will be there to collect your souls.'

'Encouraging.'

I'll have to pay Kalista's toll. I deserve no less, and I may live to see the Freljord whole before crossing over, but is my sacrifice really for the best? I know Sejuani wouldn't approve. Looking at Volibear, I wonder if…

No, he's blameless. I can't allow him to bear the cost of our possible relationship. The price is eternal but love can perish. I doubt Sejuani could rest easy knowing Volibear suffered. If my princess and I can't share an afterlife, we'll cherish the days we have.

The silence drags while we process the coming trial. An impatient Sarah fires a round into the sky. 'Yoohoo, Karthus! I'm glad you're helping Ashe but I've got a bone to pick with the Shadow Isles.'

Karthus lazily descends. 'Of course you do, my Captain, because you don't understand. I've been liberating your dead. Suppose you fell before claiming revenge. Would you know peace without a guide?'

'You fucking hypocrite. You're killing as many people as you "save"!'

'What is that unsightly phrase about omelettes and eggs? I lived off rats when I was mortal.' He strokes his chin. 'Still, I might have been too zealous. When I first ascended, full of music and optimism, I freed everyone before their time. All I did was unite enemies and inspire a new generation of paladins, awful creatures.'

'You'll have to deal with worse if you push Bilgewater.'

'Certainly not, your sails are better set on putting your _boat_ in order. Then I'll have no stake in your affairs.' He plucks a rose to admire the petals. 'I'll grant you this. My work should feel more… natural. People never question blighted lands after a slaughter. That you're here means I've gone too far.' He mutters like an artist hearing unwanted feedback. 'So be it, I'll give your trapped souls time enough to fester. They'll know who to thank, believe me.'

'The dead are none of my business. I don't care what you tell them so long as you fuck off.'

'Then you cede responsibility for most of your demesne. If you're tired of death's march, you should write your own anthem. Civilise Bilgewater so your vassals outnumber the lost and we'll turn our gaze elsewhere.'

'Civilise? You're asking _me_ to civilise Bilgewater?' She spits in the nearest bush.

'Life isn't fair, my Captain, but if you can't think of an opening theme, try penning a dirge for Illaoi.'

Sarah's brow deepens. 'The one person who's keeping your mist from our shores? How convenient.'

'She's working against you. So long as Illaoi draws breath, you will never control Bilgewater. Thresh and Hecarim will hear the cries of anguish and warfare. The dead will cry for my beautiful song.'

'I know when I'm being played, lich.'

'You dance to her plodding rhythm because you're too quick to believe in cold, rational cruelty. Illaoi may declare herself beyond good and evil but she's a woman first and a prophet second.'

I see his point and interject. 'I've been called a queen, a goddess and a conqueror but when others forget I'm a person, I'm deadlier than all three.'

Sarah nods. 'I'll take it from _you_.' Her fingers dance upon her guns. 'Our Truthbearer's got a few secrets. I know she bumped uglies with Gangplank a while back.' She glares at Karthus. 'And you can shove that rotten grin of yours. I won't simply kill her so you can roll us, not when I can use her.'

Karthus remains unflappable. 'Dance with the devil if you must. I'll be there to commiserate if you stumble.'

'Huzzah.' Sarah looks around. 'I'm done if you guys are. Not all I was hoping for but I'm still in one piece.'

We're off to Kalista then. Volibear asks, 'Will our group survive the landscape?'

I feel a chill as Karthus looks over me, Quinn and Sarah. 'Hmm, I can't say. The golden girl has a bright flame but Ashe and Captain Fortune have no guarantees.' Why does Sarah get a title?

Volibear smacks his paws together. 'It is what it is. Ashe, I trust you're coming,'

'Yes.'

He doesn't argue. 'Quinn, we have directions. You needn't risk yourself to guide us.'

Quinn roars. 'I'm going all the way!' then flinches at her double-entendre. She's incurably teenage and awkward, even at her boldest.

'I respect your devotion but your country may need you to fall elsewhere.'

'My homeland is an ideal, and I serve justice by serving yours.'

'No,' says Volibear. 'The Freljord requires nothing, least of all service. You are helping _us_, and we no longer speak for our people.'

'This goes beyond you and Ashe. I was only half a person before I came to the Freljord, and I'd rather die whole than live as a child.'

'You'll have plenty more opportunities for growth that ask less of you.' Volibear looks to me for help. I have none. 'But you're free to do as you please, and your keen senses are welcome.'

'Thank you,' says Quinn. She looks at me with open defiance.

I beg of her, 'Please don't.'

'I must.' We're beyond reason.

Our last ally avoids eye contact. 'Sarah,' I call softly. 'There's no need for you to come with us. I know you wanted more but…'

'You don't have to creep.' She blows a lock of hair aside. 'I'm out of my depth and I didn't survive to this day by picking every battle.' Her smile returns. 'Besides, you guys will need an escape when it all goes bottoms-up.'

'Running from a horde of angry spirits with our prize in tow.'

'I'll be disappointed with anything less.' Drawing near, she brushes my waist with her knuckles. 'Come back in one piece, all right? If you die because I chickened out, well…'

'I didn't think you cared.'

'Rub it in, why don't you?' She clips the side of my breast with her gun. 'Come back you filthy barbarian slut, or I'm crawling into a bottle for an afternoon, at least.'

'I'll come back and we'll do that anyway.'

'Deal.' Sarah turns to Volibear. 'Look after my babies, you sexy beast, and you'll get all my honey.'

He says, 'I'll protect your friends with my life, regardless of any threats you make.'

'If all men were as good as you, this life would be paradise.'

'You'd think otherwise if we met in battle.'

'Ashe didn't think otherwise, or you wouldn't be here.' Volibear can't object.

Finally, Sarah whispers to Quinn. I can't hear what passes until Sarah draws back and I read a conspiratorial "good luck" upon her lips.

While Quinn chews on her fist, I recall her on top of me, her thumb in her mouth, naked from the waist down. I swallow the memory just in time. Sarah's close. With a gentle, yet insistent grip, she forces me to look at her. 'Be kind, Ashe.'

'I don't know if I can.'

'Whatever happens, dawn will come. Ain't one person with the whole world on their shoulders. Be yourself. Be happy. Be kind. Fuck everyone else, because they'll be fine.' She lowers her voice. 'Even if their queen runs off with another woman.' Fear clutches my heart. I pray Volibear concludes we're talking about Sejuani. Sarah chuckles. 'Yeah, I got you, babe.'

I grow hostile at her intervention. 'You're treading on dangerous ground. You'll drop the subject if you know what's good for you.'

My tone hits like a slap. 'So that's how you're going to play it. And here I was, dumb enough to think you'd listen.' She backs off. 'I'll ready _The Syren_ for a quick getaway. We'll stay for as long as possible.'

'Thanks. We'll send Valor back alone if the worst happens.' I glance at Quinn. She nods in affirmation.

Sarah drags her heels through the dirt. I think our exchange hurt more than she let on. She'd trusted me with her secrets, and I hadn't returned the favour. 'Aye aye. Farewell, Ashe. I hope you find what you need.'

And then we were three.

Hunting for a distraction, I see the fallen rose. While Karthus is busy conjuring wisps to guide us, I pick up the flower and slip it into my quiver. He spies me crouching and I scramble for an explanation. 'I was admiring your garden. How does it work?'

'Your interest is appreciated. Our gravedigger is the one who maintains it. I merely encourage him.'

'Why do they grow?'

'For the same reason I can talk with you. Death is motion. Corpses rot even after the souls move on. You may drive out all life but the most barren land will reconfigure so long as entropy grows.' He lectures while continuing his work. 'What you're seeing is a rare combination of magic, force and nature, somewhat like finding a cloud indistinguishable from a person. I still don't fully understand it. However, time is on my side, one of the great advantages of lichdom.'

Volibear says, 'Time is on nobody's side. You're a fool if you think otherwise.'

'The servant of chaos rebels against certainty. You are the rock, around which all breaks. Your bile, delusion and resentment will no more change your fate than fate will change you.'

'There's no contradiction. Every storm has an eye, still as the wind is wild.'

'Yes, like a tumour pulsing with the beat of a sick heart,' says Karthus. 'We could trade apothems until Valoran dies, but you don't accept anything. It is both your strength and your tragedy.' He moves on. 'Ashe, you look inward enough. I won't torment you with my thoughts until we meet again.'

How did I earn a lich's clemency? 'Don't assume I'll be talkative when I pass.'

'Most of us are. Besides, you have manners, unlike _some_ people.' He says to Quinn, 'Golden girl.'

She'd been fretfully silent ever since her chat with Sarah. Now Quinn snaps. 'Don't call me that! I'm an adult. I have a name. Why do people have to make me into a symbol or a bird or a girl?'

'You're a girl by many standards. You are golden, untouchable, a stray piece of grit from Zhonya's hourglass. You have immense power to change the world, free from destiny's pull. Embrace your nothingness. Embrace your freedom. You needn't accept what others do.'

Quinn drives both palms into her skull, as if containing enormous pressure. For a split second, she looks at me with animal ferocity. 'No, forget it. I'm out of my depth and I can't work out your game. I'll carry on as Quinn, if it's all the same to you.'

I say, 'That's all _I_ need.'

Her longing is plain. I've made a mistake. 'Thank you. Now let's go. _Please_.'

We follow Volibear into the gloom. Karthus bows in farewell, his evil smile frozen in death. By the time I look again, he's gone, leaving echoes of light and song.


	30. Faith - Chapter 13

**Faith – Chapter 13**

Sunlight fades until we're marching through close, inky night. Soil, that was bone dry, grows damp with rot. Slimy trunks replace brittle bark. The stench of carrion, compost and swamp water fills my nostrils. I hear Quinn gag several times but she waves away my concern if I so much as look.

Volibear doesn't falter. Decay must smell better than humanity.

My soul weakens but I'm able to push my body like a merchant wagon. I picture thick rope, extending from a bronze ring through my nose, wrapped around Volibear's chest. I'm yanked onwards like a slave to market, or a calf to slaughter.

Valor sails above. I can see him only when he obscures the moon. I wonder if he knows how much danger he's in.

Wraiths dance through the trees like miniature comets, or the fae spirits of my home. Volibear pauses to watch them before adjusting our course. I recall my wayward youth, navigating Freljordian ranges and ruins by similar means. I doubt I have the confidence or favour to do that anymore.

Volibear discovers a long aisle of paired silver birches. We stop, while he goes on all fours to investigate. I'm impressed with how softly he moves. Once he passes the final arch, a blast of chill wind reveals his bones. Quinn and I go for our pointless weapons, but he shakes off the jolt as if it were merely rain. He waves us forward.

As we take our final steps across the boundary, Quinn squeezes my hand. I'm unsure who reached out first. A shock of white sunders my being. For a terrifying instant, I leave my body… then return as Quinn's powerful tether pulls me back. Woozily dancing in a tight circle, I nearly stumble into her embrace but I mustn't lean on her. I have to stand alone before Kalista. Sejuani's pain is mine to heal.

For once, I will be the goddess that she deserves.

In the chasm below, tortured thralls writhe like a bed of eels. A rotten bridge, lashed with intestines, makes a bleak offer. Kalista's deal must sell itself.

An impossible crag flowers from the depths. Its narrow stem blossoms into the fossilised ashen palm of a giant. Astride thumb and little finger, marble columns, white and ebon, form a temple of monochrome beauty. My curiosity's piqued. What civilisation is that architecture from? So many secrets, so little opportunity… perhaps endless torment would allow me to discover hidden parts of Runeterra.

Volibear says, 'I feel the presence of the divine. We're not in a mere temple. This is a place of communion, a seat of power similar to the storm's peak.'

Should I feel privileged? I guess few mortals have come here. 'So Kalista's present?'

'Or some other power, but I'd wager that it's her. The design is appropriate, an unbalanced world forced into balance. Do you see how frail the wrist looks, worn to no more than a sapling's width? In our land, it would barely take the weight of its original palm, let alone a structure.'

While Volibear muses, Quinn points with her nose like a dog finding a scent. 'Something's off. You see that erm… slab… altar thing?'

Volibear squints. 'I'd say that's a tomb or reliquary. Maybe that's where Kalista sleeps?'

I'm sceptical. 'Do you think vengeance ever sleeps?'

'It is an urge like all others. It ebbs and flows with time and energy. But as an ideal, you have a point.'

As we debate philosophy, stretching out our lives before the end, Quinn says, 'No, something's above it, or on it. I can't see much, only a bend of the light through the mist.'

I ask, 'What about Valor?'

He trills in response to his name. Quinn translates. 'A… thing of enormous power is contemplating us. Valor can't explain further. He doesn't see the world like we do.'

'I wonder if my hawk spirit sees anything.' The familiar vertigo launches my sight across the bridge.

A vile face, twisted in scorn, appears close to mine. Terror causes my spell to burst. A glittering shower exposes the cerulean figure perched above the tomb. Kalista hunches over a boil of broken limbs, one leg raised and folded like a mantis claw. Her slimy-looking feet are huge. She could reach us with a single jump.

Long arms dangle below, clutching a black spear, the tool of Sejuani's capture.

Hatred courses through my veins. I have steady hands, yet I feel them shaking. I despise this creature for taking advantage of Sejuani. For once, I share Volibear's eagerness to fight and fall.

Kalista bellows from every direction. 'Ashe, you presumptuous little whore. Nothing sacred is beyond your prying eyes and filthy grasp.' Should I apologise for scrying? As I dither between conciliation and rage, Kalista pounds her tomb. 'Keep your excuses! You're as beholden to defilement as I am to vengeance. The Freljord was a near perfect realm until your ascension. Even Tryndamere accepted your leash. You stole a promising thrall and I _do not_ forgive.'

I can't win her over. We'll have to bargain as enemies. 'I came for my love, not your forgiveness. Name your price.'

'You think souls are currency?' The ground rumbles. 'You think I'd repay Sejuani's oath by trading it away?'

Volibear says, 'I'll ensure her soul is returned, if you doubt Ashe's intent.'

'I doubt Ashe's intent and your wisdom but I make no predictions, only judgements.' Kalista thrusts out her claw, fingers crooked with anticipation. 'I'll offer you this pact, Sejuani for a comparable soul, taken immediately. Then if the rest of you don't restore her, I'll claim all of you plus anyone foolish enough to stay my charge.'

When you're facing death, they say your life flashes before your eyes. Instead, I see my lost future, a difficult, rewarding relationship with Sejuani. Through care and understanding, we heal each other's wounds and unite our worlds.

I cover my tears. Couldn't I have held her one last time? I've made awful mistakes and I deserve my punishment but it's all too soon.

Forgive me, Sejuani, Quinn, Volibear, Tryndamere. Forgive me. You're all strong, and you'll do better when I stand aside. Some of you may grieve, but you'll get on. You'll build an imperfect world, riven by conflict, unhappiness and regret, a world far better than any perfection I could sow.

This is goodbye.

Just as I'm stepping up, I hear Volibear ask, 'Will Anivia's egg work as intended?'

Kalista sounds bored. 'As a vessel? Yes, provided you leave the contents alone.'

'Good,' says Volibear. 'Then I'll pay the toll.'

I protest. 'Volibear!'

'My life is meaningless if I can't save my cub.'

'You're saving her now and you'll have the chance to save her, again and again. All I've done is cause her pain.'

'Without you, she'll wallow in despair. Your tribes will scatter and the Freljord will collapse.' His muzzle blasts hot air into my face. 'I won't allow it. Sejuani deserves a better legacy.'

'Where is your faith? You gave up centuries of isolation to follow her into battle. I've seen Sejuani at her most vulnerable, yet even I think she's tougher than what you're claiming.'

'All the more reason for me to step aside. I've been stifling her, while you've shown respect in opposition. She needs a challenger, not a... pretend father.'

'There's nothing fake about your relationship!' I grab his giant wrist as if I could restrain thirteen hundred pounds of Ursine. 'While she thinks I'm something I can't accept.'

'Whether you accept yourself or not, you will _be_. Take responsibility for what you've begun. Through violence or love, make Sejuani happy.'

'No!' My feeble arms tug and flail. Volibear shrugs them off as if they were branches raking his fur.

But our passions were for nothing. Our bridge to redemption is gone.

With a clatter, the planks rebound off the central pillar. Quinn watches, knife in hand, Anivia's egg held close to her chest. Volibear goes to his pouch and finds only straps.

With the casual ease of plucking a rabbit, Valor flies Quinn over the ravine. We race to the edge as Quinn lands on the temple with the grace of an acrobat. She looks over her shoulder. There's no hesitation. All our cries are met with the gaze of a predator, the same gaze that sent me running from our first encounter.

Never once did I think it would lead us here.

Magic amplifies her quiet resolve. 'Is my soul good enough?'

Kalista examines her tribute from all angles. 'I perceive a little girl whose only dream was obedience. No wonder you're so keen to forfeit your pathetic life… but…' She seizes Quinn's throat. 'Your nation is a boil of resentment, all that sacrifice without reward. Some of my keenest vessels are Demacian.' Kalista breathes like a shaman drawing fumes. 'Very potent. I smell a teenager's hatred of an unjust world, fed and watered with tragedy, helplessness and isolation.

'Your fate is cruel. No matter how much you fight, you will never know the simple happiness you desire, never dance with a beautiful wife in public view. Failing acceptance, you don't even possess the wealth to sin privately. Poverty forces you to suck at your liege's dry tit. Soon, you'll have to suckle his children.'

Kalista throws Quinn to the ground.

'Once, you might have accepted your misery but a chance encounter gave you a taste of bliss that you couldn't forget or repeat. You may prove yourself to her a dozen times over, praying for justice in love but only vengeance will answer true.' Kalista drives her weapon into the stone. 'Draw the spear, Quinn. Deliver the justice you deserved in life.'

'You'll free Sejuani, like you promised?'

'Yes.'

Quinn throws back her head, as if taking a final gulp of air before the plunge. 'Can I talk to my friends one last time?'

'If you must.'

Volibear and I yell at her to come back. Valor hovers like a piece of driftwood. We're below, sinking. She waits for a pause in our desperation before saying. 'Ashe, I'm sorry, but I thought about what you said and I can't do it. I can't live as someone else, not as Queen of Demacia, not as an unthinking servant, or… Lux's bitch. I'd sooner die for a cause I truly believe in.' She cuts off my objections with an imperious wave. Oh, sweet Avarosa, this woman could have ruled Valoran. 'Do you know how many people there are like us? I don't. As a girl, I thought I was alone… but imagine a story, famous enough to reach all four corners of the world… two beautiful women, ruling a frontier paradise where secret lovers can find each other.'

Volibear interrupts. 'The Freljord is no paradise. Even if Ashe and Sejuani reconcile, there's little chance of peace. I'm as big an obstacle as any. Quinn, if you're serious about your motivations, you should let me…'

'No,' says Quinn. 'If one person stands between their happiness… it's me.'

Volibear fixes me with a glare cold enough to freeze blood. I gather my courage and offer a clear strike at my throat. He says, 'Quinn?'

'I've taken advantage of Ashe's kindness long enough. Perhaps I could have stolen her but…' I feel my heart leap. _If I had another life_. Those words repeat endlessly. _If I had another life. If I had…_

I scream, 'Kalista, Take me instead! I'm the cause of all this. Take me, please!'

Kalista replies, 'I take no one. Supplicants offer themselves to me. No doubt you could persuade Quinn with the right words, but your father-in-law would feast on your entrails.'

Volibear says nothing. As I choke on fear, Quinn responds like a mother comforting a child. 'No, Kalista, nothing will deter me. This is goodbye.' She touches her face. I wonder if it's a sign of doubt until her fingers hook underneath her bandana. My vision explodes with colour.

Quinn's red hair is nature's masterpiece, lank from our travels yet brighter than sunlight upon snow. She kisses her trigger finger and touches the darkness between us. 'I love you, Ashe. Live well for me.'

'Quinn!'

She grabs the spear. Ghostly chains erupt from its length, restraining her like rotten vines choking a tree. Quinn struggles to breathe. I claw at my chest in sympathy. Can't Kalista grant a willing thrall a clean death?

A pair of blue souls, their tails entwining in a helix, whoosh towards Anivia's egg. As they connect, a familiar crest of twin axes emblazons the shell. My heart flutters in recognition. So my Sejuani's duality runs deep enough to split her soul in twain.

As Quinn squeaks under the pressure, Kalista conjures another spear, this one a simple tool of war, not ritual. A declaration tolls. 'The oath is taken.' She coils like a drawn bow then skewers Quinn's heart.

A flash of green throws me to the ground. Silence descends. I no longer hear Quinn's agony, Volibear's growl, or the churn of Kalista's moat. Nothing remains. Perhaps I'm dead. I'll be with Quinn after all.

As my senses return, I feel something unexpected, Volibear helping me stand. 'Ashe, look.'

Quinn remains upright and intact. Around her feet lie broken chains. Golden light shines from her chest wound, soaking vengeance's temple. Kalista thrashes like an impaled snake. 'LIAR! BETRAYER! DECEIVER!'

Quinn seems bewildered. 'I don't know what happened.'

'ANOTHER HAS CLAIMED YOUR SOUL AND YOU CLAIM IGNORANCE? YOU ARE TWO TONGUES IN ONE HEAD AND I WILL TEAR THEM BOTH OUT!'

I'm so giddy with joy that I can barely speak. 'She's alive! Is justice watching over her?'

Caws, like laughter, echo from above. 'No,' Volibear says, 'Not vengeance or justice… but "Valor".'

Quinn cocks her head as though she's receiving orders, then dives away from a lethal blow. She grabs the egg. Valor swoops in and the pair soar over the trees before any of us can respond.

I ask, 'What is that eagle?'

Kalista roars loud enough that we nearly fall into the chasm. She conjures two javelins and leaps into the sky. Volibear drops on all fours. 'No time! Ashe, hold on!'

I jump on his back. Waves of muscle crash together as he gallops through the forest. I'm scared. I press my cheek against his fur and whimper, 'I'm sorry.'

He doesn't respond.

Out of the corner of my vision, I see Kalista bounding from tree to tree, swinging from each thrown spear. She's catching up. An explosion of bark rains down, cutting my face. We're in striking range. I have to do something.

Rolling over, I squeeze Volibear's trunk with my calves and reach for my bow. My shoulders bounce off him, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Unlike Sejuani, I don't ride in battle. I'm staying on through sheer luck.

Volibear notices. 'Don't! You'll fall!'

A spear misses when Volibear ducks under a fallen oak. We gain a yard of pace. I have enough time to draw my bowstring and invoke Avarosa.

The shape of an arrow forms a bridge of stars between past and future, great mother and lesser daughter. The cold reaches my heart and I feel everything slow.

Kalista's an impossible target for many but I am the greatest archer in Valoran. I see the patterns of the breeze. I bring order to chaos. I can strike enemies across mountain ranges.

I'm a failure as a human but a goddess in battle, just like Sejuani said. I can get one thing right.

I begin counting down, focusing the world to a single point.

_One hundred… eighty…_

Kalista lands on a branch.

_Sixty…_

She prepares to leap.

_Forty…_

She takes flight, raising her spear.

_Twenty…_

Predictions, Kalista will dive, arcing slightly.

_Ten…_

She's a narrow target, widest across the shoulders. I counter by five degrees… up… left.

_Zero._

My crystal arrow smashes into her torso, freezing her in place. I grab Volibear's fur to break my fall. He grunts but refuses to slow down. While the magic thaws, we pull ahead almost fifty yards.

I hope it's enough. It's all I can do. Volibear gives no praise but renewed acceleration.

Kalista gains ground slower now Volibear's warmed up. She gets within striking distance again but Valor blocks her view. Quinn launches a mocking volley from her crossbow then ascends, twisting away from Kalista's retaliation. We've earnt another moment of grace, enough to reach Sarah's hextech artillery. Volibear sees the finish line and surges…

…into a magical barrier.

Volibear and I float helplessly through spectral tar. There's no pain but I feel weak and exposed. Is this how Sejuani felt when she lay before me? Now, she may be free from what I do to her.

Consumed with fury, Kalista dives through the barrier to claim us. Her glowing shroud burns away, leaving a solid outline. I see muscles, teeth, bones and eyes. The veil has been torn.

Volibear's maw twitches.

An thunderclap hurls me to ground. I cover my head as I roll through the dirt. As the ringing recedes, I hear the sounds of battle. Volibear's tearing into Kalista like a vengeful god. Every slap sends aftershocks through the soil.

The duel is lopsided. Volibear's channelling divine power but this is Kalista's territory. Here, she's both stronger and faster. She dances away, stabbing and rending until Volibear's no more than a lump of butchered flesh, but he fights on. Lightning bridges nerves and restarts his punctured heart. Every blow he lands invigorates him and slows Kalista. She howls in frustration as Volibear simply refuses to die.

He scorches Kalista's arms, legs and face. Her spectral form bubbles like any corpse in a pyre. She's on her knees, tearing open Volibear's gut. He totters. I don't think he can lift his arms anymore. Swaying in religious ecstasy, he cranes open his mighty jaw.

The tower falls, then silence.

Volibear lies on his back, like a tomb engraving, with Kalista's head in his mouth. The remains of her body thrash then dissipate.

I crawl to Volibear through scalding gore. His chest heaves. The remnants of the storm push air through his lungs. I could weep at his nobility. How could I rule the Freljord without his blessing? Even if we both live, he'll never trust me now.

Consolation comes from an unlikely source, a lifeless, yet resonant voice. 'Your tears are hasty. That Ursine is cursed with an exceptional tether. He'll survive beyond anyone's wishes, including his own.'

I see Karthus, hovering at a respectful distance. I'm so grateful to hear Volibear might live, that I forget my suspicion. 'He's going to be all right?'

'I didn't say that. Volibear may shrug off this experience, or he may come back after months in torpor, changed and incomplete. Rebirth is mortification, after all.'

'What was that barrier?'

'What was…? Where is your tact? You'd recall my shame while the ink is wet?' I glare. This is no time for his antics. 'Fine, don't lose your temper, tribeswoman. I saw my dear neighbour chasing you, so I conjured a wall that slowed you down while stripping your magical defence. Unfortunately, poor Kalista fell into the same trap, losing all her pace and immunity before confronting one of the mightiest shamans of Runeterra. She could have easily won with a little patience but, alas, I'm blaming others when I should repent. So sorry, Kalista.'

'Wait. You helped us?'

Karthus grins. 'Of course not.'

'So why haven't you finished us off?'

'Your souls are hers, not mine.'

I guess when you've existed for so long, you have an answer for everything. 'Well, you have my gratitude, either way.'

'You're welcome.'

A stampede approaches. Twigs and soil crack beneath a drumroll of boots. A squad of terrified sailors burst into view, Sarah at their helm. She gasps. 'Is that…?'

'Volibear,' I say. 'He's alive. The storm's keeping him together. He won, Sarah.'

'That's what victory looks like? Your land's even worse than Bilgewater.'

'Perhaps. Where's Quinn? Did she make it?'

'She's goggle-eyed and senseless, but unscathed. All she kept saying was "I'm alive" like it was a death sentence.' Kneeling beside me, Sarah whispers, 'Did she come out with anything?'

'You shouldn't have interfered.'

'She deserved you knowing.'

'We'd slept together long before this journey began!' I say through clenched teeth. Sarah's taken aback. 'You thought I needed an intervention to be honest with myself? I have a woman back in the Freljord, one I'm here to save!'

'Are you talking about Sejuani?' I nod. 'So you're trying to unite your country by sleeping with the enemy? Don't know whether I respect you more or less.'

'I love her, Sarah.'

'Then why do you gawp at Quinn like she's your reason to live?'

'I'm insatiable. I look at all women.'

'You don't look at me that way.'

My nerves are completely frayed. I nearly strike her. '_Maybe_ some people don't find you attractive, you painted warthog.'

'Eh, there's no accounting for taste. Why Quinn's into you is a fucking mystery. She could do far better.'

'She could, which is why you shouldn't have convinced her she was a threat to my relationship. She nearly killed herself to preserve it!' I know I'm transferring my guilt and I'm awful, but Sarah might have pushed Quinn over the edge with her meddling.

'She did what?' Sarah looks wounded. 'I just thought you had a chance at happiness.'

'In another life, perhaps.' I echo my prior thoughts. 'All I can do now is be kind, like you said.'

'I fucked up then.' She sighs. 'Won't be the last time.' We turn our attention to Volibear. 'I guess we should haul him aboard while he erm… you know.' She gestures vaguely. 'I'm scared we'll move him wrong and his heart will pop out.'

I wonder if he can hear our conversation. 'We'll have to do something or this island will...' I hear distant wails. The wind grows stronger. 'What's happening?'

Sarah's already pointing her guns at Karthus. 'I know that sound! It's one of your harvests! What are you doing?'

He says, 'If it isn't obvious, I'm cleaning up your mess.' Angry thralls blanket the sky. 'Did you see her moat? All those poor souls bound for the sake of appearance? Well, Kalista's no longer here to leash them.' Karthus draws power from below. The soil becomes chalk.

I say, 'Is that our cue to leave?'

'It is. I hope your vessel is quicker than it looks. I need a lot of time and energy to command such an audience.'

Karthus' defiling aura brushes Volibear. There's an earthquake as Volibear's regeneration rises to the challenge. His form is cloaked with lightning.

Sarah backs away, shielding her eyes. 'We have to move! All hands, lash Volibear to the hextech thruster!'

I shout over her, 'No! He's already given so much!'

'We have no choice!' While her men scramble, she presses her gun to my temple. 'Sorry, gorgeous, but I'd rather give you cause to hate me than convince you to come willing. Put your hands up.'

I have to concede. As Kalista's legion grows turbulent, I hear Karthus above the noise. 'We'll meet again, Ashe. You needn't rush to cross over. Take your leave.'

'Whatever your intentions, you've been a great help,' I say. 'Thank you.'

'Intentions are nothing. We may pull in opposite directions but all of us come to the same end. You simply need a little more faith.'

'Perhaps I do. Farewell.'

Sarah nudges me forward. I see her crew hauling Volbear's radiant form with a crusty net, a vulgar procession for a miracle. Even plague victims get a cart. I feel sick as the glow disappears into the hold. Sarah briefly strokes my hair, forgetting her role, but she recovers, driving her barrel into the sensitive bone of my jaw.

Stepping on board, I see Quinn, pale and sweaty, like a thief awaiting sentence. I can almost taste her. There are so many things I could express. Why does fate send such noble, yet susceptible, women to lay themselves down for me?

Sejuani, we've rescued your soul but I need you to rescue my heart. I snatch Anivia's egg away from Quinn. She surrenders her prize with an apologetic whimper. My palms roam across the vessel, desperately seeking Sejuani's warmth, but all I feel is cold eggshell.

Sarah claps me. 'Get a grip!' She pulls the nearest crewman. 'Oi! Secure this egg with the fragile goods. I don't care what, or whom, you damage to make room for it.' She addresses everyone. 'I need all hands below decks with hammers at the ready! Grab every piece of wood, smash all the furniture because this bitch is going to shake! Rafen, we've got the wheel. Hopefully, the two of us can prevent a swerve into the lich's opera. Quinn, tell your bird he's our lookout. Ask him to… I don't know, screech and flap in a direction if he sees danger.'

Valor circles the crow's nest. Quinn translates, 'He will.'

The spirits reach a crescendo. Sarah bellows, 'Everybody, move!'

Unfamiliar arms drag me to the hold. As I watch the sailor unravel the complex ropework lagging Sarah's treasure, my focus returns. I take up another corner. My hands work through the tough knots with ease. I'm good with patterns.

Once the chest is open, we dig through the padding, throwing aside ornaments and luminous artefacts. I find a burnt leather belt adorned with metal barrels. Not wishing to leave miniature cannons loose, I buckle them over my hips. I'd rather blow myself up than risk a hole in the ship. I'll stow the belt somewhere else or throw it overboard when the chance comes.

We close the lid on Sejuani's egg, a dumb container that feels as empty as before.

The ship vibrates. Rotten boards cough up nails and splinter. My organs quiver under my skin. I grab onto the nearest rope. A sound like a tun full of bees erupts into a dragon's roar. My legs fly out. I'm waving a like a flag, arms locked at full stretch.

I doubt any repairs are happening. Sarah's plan to keep us afloat was hubris. Volibear must have overloaded the thrusters. I pray to the storm that he's all right, if it listens to such as me.

The walls peel back. Water gushes in. As I turn to survey the damage, my grip rotates an inch too far. Sudden pain loosens my hand. I struggle to hold on but a lurch of the ship weakens my grasp.

I sail across the hold like I'm falling off a mountain. A splinter gouges my calf. The shock overrides the vertigo enough that I land feet first and roll into a brine-spattered Sarah. She disentangles our clutch, and rights herself by pushing off my chest. The warmth gushing over my leg overrides any discomfort. I think I'm haemorrhaging.

Sarah yells. 'We have to eject the thrusters!' Her nails dig into my skin. 'Come with me. There are two levers with two locks. We have to pull together.' She presses a hexagonal key into my palm. 'This is Rafen's copy. He's lashed himself to the wheel, the bastard. It should have been me but he's got fatter hands.' With a grunt, she rolls over the doorframe, dragging me by the wrist. We fall cheek to cheek as if we're dancing, a tradition I'd long envied in other countries. 'Oh shit, you're bleeding out. Wake up, Ashe. I need you with me.'

Her curls brush my lips. 'I'm with you.'

The Volibear-shaped thunderstorm is blinding, yet impossibly contained. Everything surrounding it is darkness. I can make out two giant levers above a metal web. The threads glow as different energies whirl together like oils in water. Sarah and I creep over the floor, knowing one false move could incinerate us. I'm growing faint as I reach my lever. The key turns with a low grind, ending with the percussive chime of iron snapping free.

Sarah notices my delay. 'What's happened, Ashe?'

'The key's broken! I can't…'

She draws her pistol and fires a volley that ricochets off the guard. Shrapnel peppers my skin, but the lock remains unbroken. Sarah's eyes bulge with terror. For the first and only time, she wordlessly begs another person to save her.

I duck my head in shame. I have nothing… except for this belt.

I've seen yordle alchemists in battle. These tubes propel the bearer forwards while spitting fire. Perhaps if I secure the belt around my waist and the lever then find a trigger…

Sarah notices what I'm doing. 'Ashe, you'll blow yourself to bits. Give me that!'

'We've no time!' I raise my chin. 'If I don't survive, tell Volibear to look after Sejuani, and Quinn to look after herself.'

'Ashe!'

I hit a pair of switches on opposite sides of the belt. Oxygen, blood and fire swirl together. My lungs empty. The belt crushes my back. As the smell of burning flesh reaches my nostrils, the lever snaps.

I land in a pile of machinery. My shoulder crunches on impact. I yowl in triumph as daylight falls across my brow. The horizon stretches out where the thrusters were mounted. Cool air sweeps through. The chill grows when I see Volibear's been ejected as well.

I crawl with one good arm, calling out his name. I half-notice a pair of hands urging stillness. I'm cold… so cold. For how long have I bled? I can hear Sarah's voice.

A valkyrie descends. Oh, she's lifting Volibear to heaven! Sweet Volibear, may you find peace at last, away from our turmoil and wickedness. I'm so sorry that I failed you.

His devotion is an anchor. The valkyrie strains to move him. Take me instead, if he can't let go! Commit my soul to the flames so he may live!

An eagle's cry breaks the spell. I see Valor, cawing for help while keeping Volibear's head above water. Collapsing into Sarah's arms, I mouth words, over and over, until I fall sleep.

* * *

According to Sarah, I'd been reciting "polar bears float" like it was a profound insight. She laughs about it now but without any real humour.


	31. Faith - Chapter 14

**Faith – Chapter 14**

Sarah's a woman of many talents, but first-aid isn't one of them. She's made a mess of my leg. Her stitches are appalling. I'd re-apply them but my shoulder hurts enough that I can't even lace my boots.

I'm told Volibear lies comatose but unscathed. Sarah barred me from keeping vigil. She claimed I might endanger my healing or try something unwise to save him. I suspect she's also forbade Quinn from visiting my quarters.

I understand Sarah's decision but she's overstepped her bounds. When she visits, I'm unwelcoming. She's aware that I'm upset and always brings rum as a peace offering. I can't say no.

For three days, I'm exhausted enough that I sleep right through, but as my waking hours grow, my frustration and self-loathing reach a boil. I drink as I've always done. Apparently, Sejuani can drink everyone under the table and walk along a narrow beam.

I feel sorry for her.

Just as I've drained another bottle of rum, I hear a tentative knock. That can't be Sarah. 'Quinn?'

'Um… yeah, sorry to disturb you. Can we talk?'

I feel my hair stand on end. I know that siren song. Whatever subject she raises, another motive lurks in plain view. I should say no. 'Come in.'

Quinn pads over the threshold, as if on a mission. 'I'm sorry that I couldn't visit. Sarah…'

'Kept us apart.' We share looks of indignation.

'I'm glad she's protecting you, but you're an adult. You can decide if I'm welcome, right?'

'We're both adults.'

'Am I?' She looms over me. Candlelight softens her skin to hide all the markings of battle, though her eyes remain dark. Her breasts cast a small but noticeable shadow. She sits on my bed and we touch through the sheet. As the mattress gives, I recall she's heavier than you'd think. 'Sometimes, I'm an adult. Other times…' Quinn chuckles. 'I talk about myself without asking if you're okay.'

'Just about. I'm worried about Volibear.' Not an answer, we're all worried about Volibear.

'So am I, but he's in the lap of his god, if that's the right word?'

'I'm unsure but if it saves him, it's worth our prayers.'

'I've never prayed. Valor may have some divine connection, but he's already full of himself, and I can't imagine why the gods would listen to me.'

'They have strange tastes. Avarosa looks out for me despite everything. As do you, Quinn. Perhaps you're a goddess?' I can't help flirting when we're this close. I have no self-control.

'I can't agree but I'm glad you're sounding like your old self. I've missed your compliments.'

'My old self was a lie.'

'That I saw through,' says Quinn. 'Whatever your intentions, you were honest in way that I'll remember for the rest of my life, and I'm still grateful.'

She's directing our conversation to the time we slept together. I have to resist. 'As am I, but we should leave that as a memory. Good ones are precious.'

'And a millstone,' she says. 'If you have memories but no future, where can you go?'

'That was my fault. I shouldn't have said anything.'

'You did nothing wrong, but you forgot that I'm an adult only half the time. When I'm a child, I want _everything_.' She clutches my wrist like a trap slamming shut. 'If you're convinced you made a mistake, and you owe me for it, then listen.'

'…Yes.'

'Before I met you, people were just outlines. I could see their actions but I couldn't see _them_. Everyone else read from one script and understood each other while I was left out. Loving women only made it worse. I couldn't work out if all these people were lying or if I were _that_ alone.' Her fingers brush my cheek. I feel the blood rush to my face. 'But you're different. Even when you're lying, you tell the truth. You can't help it. Once I'd found your light, my shadows grew and I couldn't face them again.'

'You'll meet others.'

'When? Where? Nineteen years, I waited for you. Should I wait another nineteen? Do you know how many peasants live beyond forty?' She looks at me with open hunger. 'No, you were my only chance, and even if you were taken, I would make you mine.' She climbs over me with the grace of a tiger, knees either side of my hips. 'I gave up my soul for Sejuani so you'd owe me for your relationship. Every morning, every kiss, every conversation, you'd remember the girl who made it possible. When I took your place before Kalista, I forced myself upon you.'

Quinn's youth shines through those words. I can be the grown-up here. 'But a relationship always depends on more than two people.' I draw my hand from under the covers and stroke her arm. 'Everyone leaves a mark. Volibear, Tryndamere, Sarah, Anivia… and you have a welcome place in our lives, now and forever. There's no fault in what you've done.'

She falters. I'm taking back control. I peel my back off the mattress to give her a big friendly hug… and the sheets fall about my waist. This time, they don't catch on anything. I shiver as my chest is exposed. Quinn wets her lips. 'No,' she growls. 'You still think I'm innocent.'

She pushes me down. The impact fuels my anticipation. Quinn makes no pretence at eye contact. Her gaze wanders over my body. 'I'll show…' Fear punctures her breath as she tugs at her neckline. 'I'll show you how defiled I am.'

I've been here before. Deep within a Freljordian warren, I shed all humanity, forcing evil down Sejuani's tender throat. I thought I could repent through sacrifice but when Quinn took a spear meant for me, the debt shifted.

I have to pay her.

Lies.

I _want_ to pay her.

She frantically pulls the laces out of her bodice, breaking some with her dirty nails. Closing her eyes, Quinn tears off the garment, revealing all.

She traces the remains of her breast. Red and yellow talons of scar tissue form a triangle around her splattered areola. Confused little bumps encircle the leathery space where her nipple once stood.

She finally speaks. 'I was tracking a Noxian agent when I fell into his trap. I survived only because a quick death was too kind. Lashing me to a diseased oak… I can still smell the leaking sap… he began to carve, piece by piece, towards my heart. In the end, Valor rescued me but I was already…' She fights back tears. 'No, I wasn't ruined. Even before that, I felt repulsive.' Her hands travel down, indicating moles on either side of her abdomen. 'I have extra nipples. When I was a little girl, other children called them "witch's tits". I covered up. Some days, I wouldn't leave the house. Caleb would fight any boy who called me names but he struggled with the girls. It was their words that really hurt.'

I'm overwhelmed. Instead of providing reassurance, I blurt, 'You're a cat.'

A spell breaks, or maybe falls. With a tilt of her delicate head and amber eyes, Quinn says, 'A cat?'

'Instead of a witch.' I'm drawn to her firm waist. 'You have extra nipples because you're a cat. You're… my cat. You're my lynx. You're my knight.'

'And you're my queen.' I feel the weight of her hard warrior's body. She kisses me. Falling upwards into her, my treacherous lips return all her love. Treacherous hands wrap the sheets around us. I kiss her neck, ears and hair. She says, 'I can show you all my blemishes and you still can't resist me.'

'Quinn…'

'I've never known such power.' She trails her fingers over my breasts. I whimper. 'Not even with a target in my sights. A good woman would respect your vows, and not take advantage, but I'm already corrupt. Once I drag you down, you'll never make excuses for me again.'

I knew little Quinn was blossoming into something fierce, but I'm unprepared for her assault. She cups my jaw. Her kisses, tough as iron, soft as velvet, ravage my defences, like she's crawled the length of a desert, and I'm an oasis. With a tug of my hair, she forces her tongue into my mouth. She's all I can breathe. I claw at her sweaty, muscular back and squeeze her buttocks through her leggings. In frustration, I pull at her belt.

She pushes me off, denying me the privilege of undressing her. She tears off layers. Buckles bounce off the furniture. Leather squeaks and rustles. Quinn was impossibly shy before. Now she's like a teenage boy, flush with animal hormones and eager to fuck me.

Her love is mine, as carnal as it is noble. Someone else understands.

Her knee pushes my legs apart. She caresses my thighs and I spread eagerly, straining for her touch. When she finally brushes my labia, the jolt is enough that I bite her shoulder. She gasps in delicious pain. After more frenzied kisses, we lock eyes. Dots of crimson glimmer like stars upon her lips. I'd fed her the taste of her own blood.

She smiles, proud of my crazed response. 'I…' She lowers her defence. 'May I… come inside you?'

'Please...' My arms draw her close in acceptance and I whisper teasingly. 'My lord.'

She settles the heel of her hand across my pelvis. I feel the pressure grow where she crushes her knuckles between our hips. Even with no penetration, I feel as though she's nailing us both to the mattress. Her forearm presses into my waist as I swallow her tongue. I'm close to fainting when Quinn draws back.

She grins rapaciously then touches my clitoris while nibbling warm wet circles over my neck and ears. I gasp little affirmations when she grinds into me. Quinn says, 'If only you could hear yourself, begging me to…' She stumbles on profanity, forcing herself from innocence to experience, from lynx to lioness. '…fuck you.'

Her digits probe further. Before I can respond, she's inside, and I lose myself to her rhythm. I release every nerve to Quinn's command. Only my fingers, trailing over her spine and shoulders, remain free.

My head lolls back. She kisses my neck and assails my breasts. I feel sparkling waves of ecstasy crash where her nails glide. She controls my pleasure while my desires are but words on water. Quinn is everything.

Some people say lovemaking is communication, but I only sought obliteration. I despise these urges of mine, despise how they debase my lovers and subjects. I longed for someone to conquer them for me, believed Sejuani could oppress them with barbarian rage. Instead she drew them out so far that I lost my humanity.

Never should I have run, but I keep on running, even if I tell myself no, my soul cries yes… yes… yes.

My core tightens and I moan with each wonderful contraction. A primal, forgotten language colours my breath. Quinn answers my call as the tides obey the moon. She drives against my thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets in bloody determination to come. I press my brow to her temple and utter sweet vulgarities. I squeeze our bodies together to fill her senses, deny her flight and fuel her focus.

I know the fine art of inspiring a self-conscious lover. Doubt and insecurity can dispel the haze. Once a decision has to be made, she'll fall short of her goal. I devour the silence until she climbs to her peak. She growls and trembles with exertion. Her eyes roll upwards. Her mouth contorts. I hadn't seen her face during orgasm before. There's a lot of white. Little droplets of sweat illuminate her skin. I lick them. She has a wonderful even blush, while her locks are matted and oily by comparison. I tug at a few knots while she collapses, a lovely dead weight.

One of these days, I'll have to wash her hair properly, but if she didn't warrant a bit of domestication, she wouldn't be… my Quinn.

She's mine. I'm responsible for this, what she's become, what she's endured. Her shy, sleepy gaze rests on my clavicle. She mutters, 'Erm… sorry for...'

I spank her lightly. 'Don't apologise. You'll spoil the mood.'

'It's just…'

I chuckle. 'You feel a bit silly now?'

'Yes.'

I kiss her cheek. 'It's normal. You did well.'

'I felt selfish.'

'I know but sometimes you have to be selfish.' I blink through the grey dawn of my thoughts. 'I guess that's easier to say than it is to hear.'

Quinn murmurs. 'Just want to be good, for Demacia, for you…' She clutches me tighter. 'But I can't.' She begins to sob. 'I've tried everything and I can't.'

'You're not alone, Quinn. We've all fallen short of our ideals but our friends… and sometimes even our foes… accept us when we don't. You can trust in their strength, their judgement, and their love.'

Quinn's eyes are still wet with tears but another emotion sparks within. 'Ashe?'

'I love you, Quinn. Perhaps I have a greedy, fickle heart, and such words are snowflakes in a storm, but even if I say them to dozens of girls and walk thousands of miles from you, my feelings will remain. Every time we look at the same sun, I'll pray that you're growing and thriving with people you cherish. I'll pray that you're fighting for them as you fought for me… then if I live long enough, I'll pray that your daughters and sons inherit your golden eyes and evergreen soul. That is… all I can offer you, Quinn. You deserve more from life than I can give, but all I have is yours.'

Quinn rains kisses over my head, face and shoulders, raking through my hair like a feral beast. Amidst all the unseemly hiccups and snuffles, I hear, 'It's enough… it's enough.'

I feel a burden settle. Perhaps it will never leave but I can bear it. I'm a goddess, after all. Pain, devotion, guilt and fear, these are my blessings and also my tribute.

As Quinn's outpouring slows to needy, mumbling exhaustion, a creak from outside ruins our peace. Quinn tenses, then rolls out of the bed, fishing a knife out of her discarded belt. I'm instantly cold without her. She crouches, naked as a wolf, wiping off the stickiness of emotion.

Our visitor lumbers away. The whole floor bows from crushing footfalls. I'm ready as I'll ever be to face the consequences but I'm still afraid. 'Volibear,' I say.

Quinn fidgets while I dress. 'Erm… should we go together?'

'No, you can't fight all my battles.'

'You don't think Volibear will…'

'Perhaps.' I raise my chin. If I'm to face my end, I'll do it as the hunter Sejuani loved. 'I fear my judgement will be so much worse than death. Imagine fighting a war both sides have already lost, while knowing you're to blame.'

Quinn shudders. 'What have I done?'

'I'd have been tested and found wanting, eventually, but you saved Sejuani's soul as I failed you both. You found a light shining in the darkness. Be proud.'

She nods, without conviction at first. A hesitant smile blooms. 'Okay, tell her that… oh, I don't know. Barbarians don't like apologies, do they?'

'Not really.'

'Then tell her she has good taste in women, and if she doesn't treat you right, I will.'

'She has awful taste in women but I think she'd respect your challenge.'

'Well, it was more a promise to you than…' She plays with her hands. 'Ah, forget I said anything. I've interfered enough. Don't want her invading Demacia.'

A heavy silence descends. We're parting ways. All I can feel is the distance between us and how much it will grow. Quinn gives me a push. 'You should… see Volibear.'

I force a grin. 'Sorry, it's hard to leave when you're standing there, all naked and yummy.'

She'd likely forgotten. Blushing, she covers her chest and turns away. The supposedly coy gesture shows off her back. You don't fool me, Quinn. She giggles. 'You're terrible.'

'I am. Remember that.' I tear my gaze from her. 'Please don't follow me.'

'No promises.'

'Please.'


	32. Faith - Chapter 15

**Faith – Chapter 15**

The final steps usher me to the deck, a stage for my denouement. I see the stars, an audience of billions, unsure if they're here to witness a performance, pit fight or execution.

The boards are lit with an eerie cyan glow, similar to the caves of the Freljord. Volibear lurches across the ship, oddly pristine fur drenched in gravelight. In his arms, Anivia's egg shimmers like an eye.

Volibear's expression is unreadable at the best of times. Now, his blankness defeats all interpretation. A poet would look upon him and see nothing.

His neck swivels. I feel someone else looking through Volibear. 'Ashe.'

My toes dig into the floor. 'Sejuani?'

She - or he, perhaps I'm speaking with them both - does not respond. Volibear shuffles closer. His palm engulfs my head like a hangman's cowl. Through bloody fog, I hear my skull crack.

Lightning swarms over me, shaping a river to the farthest shore. The waves rise and fall, crashing onto the base of a mysterious castle. One half resembles a keep. The other half is a mosaic of stone and glass, through which blue fires flicker.

My vision jars upon impact with a black portcullis. A bitter, feminine scent is the last thing I know before powerful hands emerge and seize my throat.

* * *

I'm hanging naked from a damp wall, arms and legs akimbo like a broken butterfly. Manacles press into my bleeding wrists and ankles. My damaged shoulder complains while my head slouches under its own weight. All I can see are my split ends and open thighs.

Depending on company, this position could be fun, traumatic or both. I hear a voice which drives me to the edge of reason. 'Ashe.'

I look up and see my prison. Half the room is the cell where I chained Sejuani, Volibear and Quinn. I guess it's only fair that I have my turn. Over the threshold is a different world. Alien gadgets and light sources overlook a bed of curious design. Upon it, wearing a simple outfit of dense cotton britches, and a button-down top with a stiff collar, is the woman we'd risked all to save.

Brilliant eyes glitter from a stern face, in defiance of their own beauty. Her small nose and fine glacial expanse of a jaw plead for a million kisses. Long fingers entwine below powerful biceps, above calves tall and firm enough to be siege towers.

I dare not risk a familiar greeting. 'Is that you, Sejuani?'

'Close enough.' I hear the pause of an obligation. 'I'm glad you came back.'

'Others paid a heavy price to spare me.'

'They did.' Sejuani's mouth twitches in anger. 'Volibear shared everything.'

Sejuani hates weakness. I have to bear my sins. 'I've no defence. Pass your judgement.'

She snarls like a dragon, punching her mattress with enough ferocity that I hear the frame crack. 'Is that all you have to say? Don't be such a coward. You had _some_ reason to behave as you did.'

'You want to hear my rationale? There was none. I was weak and irresponsible.'

'You insist our tribes can understand each other but whenever it hurts one of us, you close down!' She covers her face in exasperation. 'I'd suffer the void for you but you won't accept that. You won't accept me.'

'Then tell me where to begin.'

Sejuani peers between her fingers. I can taste her apprehension as I did at our last encounter. 'The… Demacian brat, you said you… loved her. Did you mean it?'

I sense a knot in my throat, a future ready to be born. I can't withhold it. A kick forces words into my mouth. Is this what labour feels like? What I say next will change our destiny forever. There's no time for qualification. Explanations are as good as lies.

All I can do is follow Sejuani's lead. If she would suffer the void, I will summon it. 'Yes.'

The word is black ice, dissolving between us. Unsteadily, she rises to her feet. Like a tree swaying from an axe's blow, she totters then smashes her fists into the wall, howling. Rivers of blood pour from her knuckles. Gradually, her cries diminish from a barbarian's roar to the sobs of a broken young woman. She kneels then falls. 'What is it you see in her?'

'She's brave…'

'Lots of people are brave! Volibear's brave. Tryndamere's brave. You don't love them!'

'She denied Jarvan to…'

'She latched on to a stronger personality! She's been bred to die for whatever stupid cause her betters decide. She's no more than a hurled rock or a thrown spear.'

'She's kind…'

'She's a pup! She'd lick the hand of anyone for scraps of emotion.'

'She's pretty…'

'No, she's not! She looks like a boy!' Sejuani hammers the ground. 'She… looks like a boy.' There's a pause in her rage, a concession.

'You're jealous, aren't you?'

Sejuani sits up. With a sneer, she grabs one of her breasts and recoils immediately. 'She's a runt, but when I saw her dressed like a man in Volibear's memory… great mother, I'd have given everything to be her. The feeling passed but, for a moment, it was there.'

'Sejuani…'

'It hurts to think some witless Demacian can effortlessly do the one thing I never could, and it hurts even more to know that you like it.' She spits. 'I bet she fucks you like a man too, something I… can't do. Serylda knows I tried with our women. If I had another body, perhaps I would have felt something other than sadness and failure.'

'There's no failure. That isn't what I need from you.'

Sejuani sighs. 'Don't lie to me, Ashe. It is something you need. I think you'd rather get it from me, but you can't.'

'You're… half-right. Since the beginning, it's always been me chasing and you pulling away. Say what you will about Quinn, she goes after what she wants, and it makes me feel happy, like an object of desire rather than a slave to it. You're gorgeous no matter what role you take. I just wish you'd approach me, willingly, rather than force me to claim you.'

'"Force you?"'

My heart sinks. How can I blame her for my sadism? 'No, forgive me! What happened was my fa…'

'No, you had it right.' Sejuani looks away in disappointment. 'For an instant, you had it right. Then you shied away, like always.'

'No, don't take responsibility for…'

'I'll take responsibility when I deem fit, as will everyone else.' Her scrutiny redoubles. 'Did you force the brat to throw her life away?'

'"She" has a name. You owe her that much after she rescued your soul.'

'Fine. Did you force… _Quinn_ to throw her life away?'

'Volibear didn't hear everything. I talked her into it by mistake.'

'Your speech is dangerous, but you're not responsible for two decades of brainwashing, loneliness and self-hatred.'

'You know nothing of her.'

'But I know myself, and I know _you_,' Sejuani says. 'The truth is you can't relinquish your guilt. Once you're declared innocent, you become powerless, and that terrifies you.' Her pronouncement is like a door slamming shut.

'Sej…'

'All you've done is run away. This united Freljord you speak of isn't some great vision. It's a means to preserve the frightened little girl you once were, to make our world your playpen, where everything is your fault and you can feel safe.'

'My people aren't playthings! They're individuals and I want them to…'

Sejuani's knife twists further. She's the one person I could never hide from. 'You don't even grant agency to the people you love! I am your fault. Quinn is your fault. How much less must you think of the peasants under your heel? You didn't even trust Volibear with the truth, the greatest, wisest man I've ever known. And you stole his right to set a course with open eyes!'

'I thought he would kill me for…'

'He would not kill you behind my back, especially over something as trifling as Quinn! How can you blind yourself so readily?'

I might ask Sejuani the same, considering she broke down over this "trifle". 'What I had with Quinn did mean something, and if you wouldn't acknowledge it, I wanted Volibear to do so… then punish me for wounding you.'

'Yet you hid from his judgement.'

'Yes, I still wanted to live, and even if I were to fall, I had to save you first.'

As I speak my truth, this world blurs. I can't focus. The strain is agony. Sejuani reaches out and I yearn for her touch. My desire goes unquenched. Instead she removes an object from the bridge of my nose. I see clearly again.

* * *

Our cell has vanished. We sit on a grey mountaintop. Above, the sky is an unsettling purple. Far below, the fields of ice are covered in a shroud of blood-red mist. I'm still chained to a rock, and still naked. Sejuani is now wearing her typical battledress and toying with a something. She takes off her helmet then presses the object to her face. Her eyes consider me through the rectangular spectacles from our shared dream.

She can see me now as never before.

So where do we go from here?

_This woman will follow you to the end of any path, and fight you every step of the way._

Avarosa?

_Maybe. Here it is more likely that you are hearing your words through my voice._

Or hearing my fears.

_How apt. Fear was always my closest companion. Through its counsel, I can tell you that Sejuani fears asking questions more than answering them._

While I fear the opposite.

…

So I begin asking questions. 'Where do we go from here?' I echo. 'For a start, I guess you don't want me sleeping around after all.'

'Do as you will. My terms haven't changed.'

'Sejuani, don't give me that. You nearly broke your hand in jealousy.'

'And?'

'I'm sick of hurting you!'

'Should I tell others they can't fight for you?' The red mist glows. 'My place is to become stronger, not refuse all competition. If these women prove worthy of more than a place in your harem, that is my failing.'

'So when you grow sick and old, I should abandon you?'

'That is our way. I'd sooner die at the peak of my powers than live to become a burden.'

'If you're cruel enough to die young, you'll burden me for as long as I draw breath, and you'll destroy Volibear.' The sky growls in response. 'Don't you realise your very life is a well of strength, no matter how frail you become?'

'We're not sentimental. We…'

'Volibear certainly is, and he's one of the greatest warriors our land has known.'

Clouds gather. Sejuani says, after a pause. 'I can't deny that.'

'Is it such a weakness? You can want me to yourself, even if you don't feel deserving.'

'I… deserve to know the parts you keep hidden, even if they hurt me. Your desire is magnificent. I'll not be shielded from what others freely behold.'

'If you insist. We may both regret this.' I feel the beast rising as I hold Sejuani's gaze. 'Do you know that I fantasise about you getting fucked by the whole Freljord, even Tryndamere?' Lightning flashes. 'Do you know that I once woke up all of the ship, not because of a nightmare, but because I got off to you bearing his children? Would you suffer that for me?' Sejuani can't hide her shock. Sweet Avarosa, I'm picturing her as the main course on a banqueting table. 'Yes, I fantasise about humiliating us both. I'm your goddess, after all.' She doesn't respond. 'You don't have an answer. That's a first.'

'I've heard it all before,' she says quietly, drawing her knees together. 'But hearing it from you makes it real. I don't think I could enact your scenario, not willingly.' That last qualification chills my blood. She's leaving a frightening possibility open.

'Don't even consider it. I doubt I'd enjoy the real thing anyway.'

She looks unconvinced. 'My men often talk of rutting you. They can defile the virtuous "queen", ruin your legacy and repay their fallen.'

Of course they do, and I don't have any pearls to clutch after my disclosure. 'But you don't join in.'

'People should learn from your strategies. Too disgraceful an end might overshadow them.'

'That sounds like an excuse.'

'Does it?' She stares into her broken helmet, as if studying her own face. 'You're not wrong. I feel your humiliation is something I should want, even if I stall the urge for the greater good.'

'You shouldn't force yourself to want anything, least of all that. I don't see my feelings as natural.'

'Others will. I see them as natural.' I see tremors where her fingers grip the helmet. 'And I'd do anything to help you accept them.'

The tremors grow until they consume everything. Our surroundings change again.

* * *

We're in a tent filled with opulent drapes, a conqueror's tent. I can't imagine Sejuani living here. Maybe this is an ideal to which she can't aspire. There are rugs and furs all over the floor, so her non-existent harem has ample space to lounge. I can smell sex and incense.

One slave girl relaxes amongst them. She's long and muscular, dressed only in jewellery, nipple tassels, and a strip of cloth dangling from a thin cord around her waist. A dusting of white body hair coats her legs, arms and belly. She has the impossible curves and endowment of a fantasy come to life.

But Sejuani's not a fantasy. Awkwardly, she drags a hand from thigh to chest. Upon contact, she screws up her eyes and flushes. I don't know if she's excited, or appalled. 'You picture me like this, don't you?'

My whole body aches with lust. I pull against my chains. 'Don't do this to yourself.'

'You don't listen to me when I tell you the same.' She stops massaging her breast. 'We're missing something.' She gets on all fours. 'Yes, that's better. You love this. You love the discomfort in my eyes, and you love watching it ebb. Every second I hold this position, it grows a little more natural, and pleasurable. Eventually, I might enjoy letting men fuck me like this, while you watch.'

The hormones are suffocating. My pelvis clenches. I swear I'm going to come with no contact whatsoever. The line between my awful dreams and the real Sejuani is blurring, if it was ever there to begin with.

'You imagine me pregnant with their children.' A chill darkens the room and another illusion falls.

The tent is now bare and ragged. Sejuani droops, abdomen hollow beneath her ribs. We've discovered her true breaking point. Finally, the space between my fantasy and the flesh and blood woman has grown insurmountable.

She says, 'I don't understand why you'd want me to bear someone else's child! You are cruel to yourself in many ways but I can't... I can't…'

I turn this around. 'Why is _my_ having a child so painful to _you_?'

'Because I'd have no future!' Her voice rises in pitch. 'And I can't lose that. I could lose everything else but not that.' Her denial takes form and clouds my view of her. She's no longer a woman, but a girl, draped in loose clothing that obscures her stunted frame. Even so, she can't pass as a boy, not like Quinn.

'What do you mean?'

'If you bear a child, you'll leave a mark of your connection with someone else.' Despite her visible regression, Sejuani's cadence remains lofty as ever. 'Your stud will be remembered through his descendants while all trace of our bond will vanish.'

'What if we raised the child together, as a couple?'

'Their presence would be a constant reminder that all we have is fleeting.'

'Many children are known for their adopted parents. We don't have an alternative, barring a miracle.' Divine intervention rescued Quinn. We could pray for the same. 'Why is bloodline so important to you? Doesn't your tribe scorn inheritance?'

'I inherited the wrong eyes, the wrong voice, the wrong urges and the wrong body! Nature gave me the wrong past. All I have left is the future.' Her voice lowers. 'Please don't take that away from me.'

'Then we have one option.' She doesn't answer. 'I know you proposed it in another life. What if you bore the child?'

Sejuani gathers up handfuls of her oversized smock. 'I'm the Winter's Wrath, not a mother.'

'You could be anything.'

'You would… see the child as yours?'

'Yes. You'd carry them for me. We'd raise them together. They'd understand our different ways and unite the Freljord in a way that I never could.'

'I…'

'Would you sooner have _me_ bear someone else's child?' She squirms. 'I'm not asking you to commit to anything. We… no, _you_ have to know the answer.' In this form, she looks petulant, rather than brooding. I'm finding it easier to press her. Maybe I shouldn't be a parent, after all.

Her voice is ragged when she finally responds. 'I'd rather bear the child.'

'You're so brave.' She looks up through glimmering eyes. I fall into an ocean of her tears.

* * *

We emerge on a strange dock, surrounded by giant, rusty ships of distant origin. I'm lashed to the front of one like a figurehead. Sejuani's an adult again, dressed in synthetic and woollen clothes.

I say, 'You do have a future, Sejuani. Maybe it's not as you are now, but anything else would be an eternal present.'

Sejunai rubs her nose. 'There is truth in your words. If only you ruled your tribe with such wisdom.'

'I'll get there.'

She smiles thinly. 'Giving birth might scar me for life. Yielding to this body, after resisting it for so long... Yielding to you was painful enough.'

'Sorry, my love. I'll regret that for as long as I live.'

'We'd both have chosen different roles. Perhaps we'll transcend them, one day.'

The cold sea wind passes through my bones. 'Would we still be lovers then?'

'I don't know,' she says, warming her hands in her pockets. 'The future is boundless.'

'What about now?'

She gives a deep sigh. 'No more or less than we were before.'

'So nothing's changed?'

'You never did live up to my expectations. You either fell short or exceeded them. Through rescuing my soul, you did both. I see only continuation.'

'Is that enough?'

'I doubt it. Our situation can not hold.'

'What should I change?'

She answers readily, 'Don't lie to Volibear. What you do to him, you do to me.'

'I'm sorry for hurting your friend. I don't expect his forgiveness, or acceptance.'

'You should expect nothing apart from your life. He won't kill you. So long as we're connected, he'll stand between you and the void.'

I barely deserve his acknowledgement, and he knows it. His devotion to Sejuani has forced him into the role of my protector. 'That isn't fair.'

'Then be the woman deserving of his blood. Make it fair.'

'How?'

She pauses, as though communicating with him. 'That's for Volibear to say. He's expressed little to me. I've rarely known him so quiet.'

'Oh.' That's ominous.

'He may be withholding judgement until I'm restored.' She waggles her fingers, as though seeing them for the first time.

'You seem worried.'

'Yes, part of me fears how I may change. Maybe I'll seek vengeance for your actions when I have my soul back. I'm uncomfortable with that thought.'

'I don't think our relationship, or any relationship, is worth your soul. If both you and Quinn come to believe that, I'll sleep easier.' She turns her back to me, arms crossed tight across her heart. 'Sejuani?'

'Perhaps... I don't know. I know what I _wish_ to believe.'

'That there's something larger than you, worthy of your self-destructive, unconditional love, a woman you may fall before without losing your pride. You watched me save your soul, not as a warrior, but as a craven rogue, lying and seducing my way to victory.' She doesn't respond. 'Now, history has to be rewritten. If a great leader put you on your back, you could retain some of your identity. If a weakling took advantage of you then all is lost.'

She whispers, 'You didn't take advantage. I delivered myself to you. It was my choice to... submit.' Oh, my poor thing, saying that must have hurt so much.

'You chose without knowing me. Now you've seen what I truly am, would you change the past?'

'You're many people, Ashe, and I saw who you were at that point in time.'

'Do you love me, or just her?' She rubs her cheek. I wonder if she's crying. 'If it's any consolation, I was just as blind. I never knew you were younger than me.'

She turns, roused from her stupor by the mention of numbers rather than feelings. 'Yes, by three years, if my sources are correct?' I nod. 'My birthdate is common knowledge. I shared it with an omen. I can't imagine how you stayed ignorant.'

'I never thought to ask. I just assumed we were the same. You weren't the only one chasing an ideal. I pictured another half, not a younger woman with anxieties and weaknesses. I'm glad I found you instead.' She doesn't smile in return. 'I guess you can't express the same.' I relax into my chains. 'You're strong enough to walk away.'

'Your Demacian wouldn't walk away. I'm not losing you to her.'

If my infidelity secures our relationship because Sejuani's that eager to spite Quinn, I might give up on making sense of the world. 'She'll return to her own life. Quinn was never mine. I was only her coming of age story. Perhaps I'm just yours. Walk away. Leave me chained. I can't chase you now.'

Sejuani speaks with kind frustration. 'You're not chained.' I tug and wince as the metal bites into my wrist. 'You're doing this to yourself.'

'Maybe Volibear…?'

'No, he's not interfering.'

I no longer trust my senses. We're in limbo, floating through rainclouds, the raw materials of the storm and our shared hallucination.

* * *

I can't see my body, let alone my chains. Yet something holds my consciousness just as firmly. Before me shines a valkyrie with eight grey wings and skimpy silver armour. Her helmet is no longer broken. Sejuani's become the living ideal of strength and beauty.

No, I want to see the real thing. Maybe I never saw the real thing. Maybe this is her trying to please me.

Did she ever try to please me? The thought is oddly troubling. Sejuani wouldn't do that, would she?

I slump from invisible shackles. 'I'm too weak to break free,' I say with an invisible tongue.

'You're not.' Her voice is that of the heavens.

'I am. If you still wish to believe, then walk away. Trust I will break free and hunt you as I did before. But if you're wrong, you can sleep well, knowing you're free of your false goddess. Either way, you win.'

She hesitates. 'What if I still want you?'

'Then free me, and in doing so, accept I am broken and helpless, that I will never live up to your ideals,' I say, 'That I'm just an Avarosan you squandered your dignity upon.'

She floats up to me, and I drink her in. She's gorgeous, utterly gorgeous, and the mere sight of her is enough to strike me dead. Watching her move is paradise. Underneath her divine façade, I smell both sweat and snow. She gives me form when she brushes my cheek. I kiss her hand in rapture. She says with growling sensuality, 'Ashe, I'll never lose all faith in you. Perhaps it will fray to dust as you try me to destruction but, even scattered and formless, it will remain.'

'I love you so much!' I blurt, all my poise gone.

She presses her forehead to mine. Her eyes captivate me, with their unique slant and azure colour, deep as a summer night. I've long wondered which ancient warrior-queen or legendary creature bequeathed them. She may carry some Frostguard blood, as Nunu's eyes turn a similar way, and she's always been one of nature's enchantresses. 'I don't know if I can accept you like this. I may destroy both of us trying to lift you up, or drag you down.' I can feel the hunger on her lips. 'Ashe, I would know you one last time before I make a decision.'

Please let this be real. 'Take me. Take me and if you can love what's left, I'm yours.'

Unlike so many times before, she doesn't argue. She kisses me. Joy cascades like a waterfall. I bare my throat as her hands explore my body for the first time. She'd always been a deferential lover despite her talk of conquest. Even at our most intimate, she kept her animal side wrapped under layers of cold philosophy. This engagement is what I needed from her, not only her love but her desire. For so long, I'd wondered if she truly shared my passion, but right now, she's putting all my fears to rest with her tongue and her touch. Even if this is just a dream, we have a future here… we have…

* * *

Light explodes. We connect and violently separate. We were everything and now we are nothing. I'm hollow, my heart, lungs and soul, _gone_. I scream with loss and frustration, scream to silence. I'm alone… and I'm awake.


	33. Faith - Chapter 16

**Faith – Chapter 16**

Volibear staggers away, pawing at a quarrel in his arm. I stumble as though drunk, falling across the guardrail. I want to howl in grief, but all I can do is retch between sobs.

I can't let it end like this. In desperation, I run towards him to plead forgiveness. I need access to that magical world where Sejuani wanted to ravish me. From what she was saying, that could have been our last time!

Volibear swats me to the deck, and I land on my injured shoulder. Before, I'd have passed out from the pain but when everything else is at fever pitch, you simply go numb. His arms crackle. 'Get out of my sight.'

'Volibear…'

'I have _nothing_ to say you, betrayer!' He tears the missile out of his bicep. 'I made a promise to Sejuani and I will not break it for you, no matter how low you sink.' Flesh knits over the wound. He looks younger following his regeneration. If that happens every time, he could be older than we know.

Sighing, he looks with pity beyond words at our intruder. Quinn's crossbow dangles by her trigger finger. Her eyes bulge with watery, babyish dread, like she's awaiting a smack. She says. 'I thought you were…'

'Do you think you could stop me if I wanted Ashe dead?' He says without arrogance. 'Leave. That's all the guidance I can offer. Let your flame die before it engulfs you.'

My tongue is sharper than Volibear's. I'm seething with arousal and it's fraying my nerves. 'Quinn, I told you not to follow.'

Volibear shouts over me, 'So what? Your words are a veil. The poor girl is obsessed. Any selfless concern you feign will merely hook her deeper.'

He's right. I have to be the vicious, masterful queen of the Freljord. I have to be the creature that Sejuani loves. Mustering all the gravity a fallen woman can project, I say, 'Do you have any idea what you've done? I was communing with Sejuani, trying to mend our relationship, and you _stole_ me from her.'

Quinn says, 'I didn't realise…'

'You claim to love me but you never listen to me! So long as I'm an object you can chase, you don't care what I want, what I feel… who I am.' Part of me believes what I'm saying. I collapse and feel the cool wood on my cheek. 'I don't think anyone cares who I am, and that's okay.'

'I do care, Ashe. I really do.'

'Then leave.'

'But… okay, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.' Quinn turns to Volibear. 'Please don't hurt her, Mr. Bear. If you feel you owe me anything, don't hurt her.'

He views me with contempt. 'I won't _kill_ her. That alone is testing my restraint, yet I won't consider my debt erased for a promise I'd already given Sejuani. You're owed restitution greater than Ashe's life.'

'It's enough for me,' says Quinn. 'I'm sorry, Ashe, I don't want to abandon you but I don't want to make things...'

I snap. 'I asked you to leave anyway. Go!'

Quinn slinks away.

I sit upright and hug my knees. 'Whatever Sejuani decides, whatever you decide, I'll…'

'We don't need your co-operation, Ashe. Do as you will.' Volibear ignores me to watch the sea.

Clutching at straws to maintain our conversation, I stupidly offer, 'She called you "Mr. Bear".'

'She may call me Avarosan for all I care. She gave up her soul for my cub, while you sold your heart.'

'I never meant it to be this way.' Meaningless words, even if they are true.

'Does that make any difference?' He searches the clouds above. 'You have a terrible power, Ashe, the power to love whatever achieves your goal. You sought one Freljord, so you loved Sejuani. You sought a means to avoid your fate, so you loved Quinn.'

'I didn't...'

'Silence! I don't want to hear your excuses even if you believe them. I've little doubt your feelings are genuine. You don't manipulate others. You manipulate yourself. When I look at you, I see the void. I see chaos walking. I see the storm… and it frightens me.' His voice sounds like it's coming from a thimble, rather than his cavernous body. 'The storm frightens me.'

'I'm just a woman, Volibear.'

'Which frightens me most of all. Perhaps you are the way of the world and I didn't notice. Before my ascension, I confronted my predecessors for turning inward and losing sight of our realm. All this time, I've been prey to the same vice, but I can't change course. It is too late.'

'What do you mean? What is too late?'

'I can't acknowledge your potential because you've hurt my cub. I could write a million sermons on creative destruction. I could listen to Sejuani sing verse after verse on conquest.' He stares into his palms. 'All the wisdom and rage of our combined heritage, all of Sejuani's acceptance won't move me to condone you. My beliefs are vanity. For now, I am not Chosen of the Storm. I'm simply Volibear. Go.'

I rediscover my balance. After everything, I'm still alive. I'm still Ashe. My fingers and toes move as they always did. I can still run, shoot, eat and fuck. I remember Sarah's comment about her body forgetting the pain of childbirth.

I should leave, but one sentence rises to my lips. 'I never knew she sang.'

'She does, only to herself.' He's so easy to bait into conversation. You just have to mention Sejuani. 'I can't judge her skill by human standards but I enjoy listening to her.'

My knees buckle. I'm consumed with the recollection of her breath and voice. To think I could have heard her sing! Oh, I need her touch. I need everything. 'As would I. Thank you for telling me. Goodbye Volibear.'

* * *

I descend into darkness. It feels like an embrace. I'd resigned myself to exposure but the dark always returns. I don't deserve you, my friend.

It's so hot down here. Why is it so hot? Is it my shame and anger, the heat of _The Syren_'s engines or merely the climate? I wish every land were like the Freljord. I could at least think there.

No, I couldn't. Even waist-deep in the purity of the driven snow, I dissolved into corruption.

As I near my cabin, I feel my body hair rising. I can smell prey. Quinn, I know you too well. I know exactly where you'll be, sexy, stubborn Quinn, who ruined my good time.

She's there, sat with her back against the door. She looks up at me like a beaten dog and says, 'I'm sorry. I know you're mad but I can't sleep knowing I've done wrong. I just want to make things right.'

With a surge of adrenaline, I seize her neckline with my one good arm then pin her against the wall. I invade her mouth with my tongue. She claws in feeble resistance. I grab her knee and pull it up, thrusting my thigh between hers. When I break our kiss, Quinn looks at me with pleading eyes.

Ever the good girl, except when she's not. 'Ashe, this won't help. You'll feel…'

'Don't tell me what I'll feel.' I punish her again for her impudence, biting as I disengage. 'Right now, I can't make things any worse, and no matter what happens between us, we'll go back to our separate lives. This is just a dream, a beautiful, beautiful dream.'

'Ashe…'

I cup her face. 'We can make a show of our guilt and impress nobody, least of all, Sejuani and Volibear, or we may salvage what we can.' She swallows. 'Life is cruel. You might wait a long time for another partner, but if you'll have me, Quinn, I'm yours until we land.'

'I…'

'Yes, my lynx?'

'I… just once, I want to wake up next to you, in a bed, like we're… married. I want to know what that feels like.'

'You sweetheart.' I kiss her throat. 'Is that all?'

She clutches my hip and leans into me. 'No.'

* * *

Quinn is a beast. I thought I was alone for wanting sex all the time but she gave me a place to belong, over and over again.

She couldn't sleep at first. She tossed and turned like the ocean. After fantasising about sharing a single bed, she discovered it was really hard. I smiled in the dark as I listened to her growl in frustration.

She woke up exhausted while I was refreshed. I kicked off the blanket and she greeted me with a scowl as deep as a Freljordian ravine. She grumbled, attached herself to my waist, and forced me down before going back to sleep.

I remember wishing I had a book while she caught up. However, she was so adorable, I couldn't stay mad. Her bratty side was a gift. When I slept with Sejuani, she was the suffering, indulgent wife, while I was the needy pest. I enjoyed filling a different role.

When Quinn woke up, she was contrite and affectionate. She kissed my belly, and we laughed about how difficult it was to sleep with another person. When my stomach rumbled, she collapsed into a fit of giggles. I felt a warm dampness where her face lay. She raised her head and looked at me with the most beautiful expression I'd ever seen. Wiping away grateful tears, Quinn finally knew what it was like to be married.

Soon, I learnt to sleep with my back to Quinn so she could roll away or spoon depending on her need. I had fewer chances to ogle her, but I loved it when she kissed my neck and caressed my side. It got even better when she wrapped her arms underneath mine to play with my breasts. I always gave her buttock an approving squeeze when she did that. Her future partners might rue my encouragement, but I'm sure Quinn can afford a few bad habits.

Liberated from her shyness, Quinn proved an athletic and inventive lover. She tried new methods and positions without thinking any through. With my sore shoulder, I was happy to luxuriate in her vigour, savouring her incompetence and inspiration alike. She held me like a dog, worshipped my feet, and left accidental bruises with her muscle and bone. When I took control, she relaxed into a more feminine role, as doe-eyed and ingenuously seductive as when we first met.

In the gentle silence of an afterglow, I asked her which role she preferred. She didn't know. I liked her answer.

I learnt so much about her body. Whether due to scarring or nature, she's quite insensitive. I can suck almost anywhere to the point of leaving a mark and she barely notices. Only penetration's difficult. She keeps asking for it only to seize up like a bear trap whenever I so much as probe with my tongue.

Whenever I'm inside her, it feels like something other than lovemaking. It feels like a conversation she can't hold. I watch her gaze upwards in a sore trance while I move, slower than a mountain. When she moans with pleasure, it's like she's communing with the divine.

I worry that she's preparing her body for the role of Demacia's queen. As before, I'm despondent, yet secretly thrilled. I wish I knew how to process my taste for watching masculine women getting fucked, usually by men. I don't know whether it's an expression of my self-hatred or just a benign quirk of my sexuality.

I don't know.

I like that answer, just not from me.

* * *

Everybody knew what I was doing with Quinn. Walls talk on a ship. I've little doubt sailors were making vulgar jokes at my expense but they were too scared of their captain to bother me. Conversely, Quinn grew more popular. Many times, I saw her wearing her new bodice and laughing with the men. I think they saw her as one of the "lads" while I was a perverted woman who put on airs. Never mind that I was a blooded ranger with mud on her boots, I was Quinn's conquest.

Sarah made things awkward. She was torn up with guilt and far too eager to fix our relationship. Although her pout and swagger masked our tension, Bilgewater's foremost bounty hunter wore neediness like a halo. By warning everyone off me, she'd painted a bigger target.

We began talking again, slowly. Sarah had little experience of true friendship. She was used to resolving arguments with coin or blood.

So many of us grow up alone. We might as well be stars in a cloudy sky.

Volibear was uncommunicative. I lost some respect for him. Why do all these "mighty" warriors prowl and sulk at the first sign of personal conflict? If men aren't retreating into their little caves, they're cracking awful jokes or puffing out their chests. I grew frustrated enough that I played a suicidal game, staring at him to provoke a reaction. I wanted him to lose his temper and throw me into the sea.

Of course, he never did.

I found refuge in Quinn. Every day, she grew up a little more while the rest of us grew stagnant. Even if I couldn't follow, I could watch.

The towers of Demacia were no comfort when Valor sounded our arrival.


	34. Faith - Chapter 17

**Faith – Chapter 17**

I spend the last day staring into the sea, preferring sickness to my inner conflict. I'm eager to restore Sejuani, but fearful that she'll turn hostile. Back home, I have responsibilities. On board, Sarah manages everything while Quinn warms my bed.

Volibear can't hide his impatience. I half-expect him to dive into the choppy green water and swim to shore. He carries Anivia's egg in a strongbox, a present from Sarah. Few people could lift it, let alone steal it. We've learnt our lesson from Quinn's interference.

The box might draw attention from outlaws, but Volibear would enjoy cracking a few skulls.

I hear Quinn approach from behind. She plays with my hair while I nestle into the crook of her shoulder, making the most of the time we have left. I'm past caring what others think. Volibear can fume and the sailors can leer. This moment is too precious.

_The Syren_ judders into dock. Engines spit out minor corrections to our course. We back away from the rail at Sarah's behest. I watch Quinn straighten out her bodice, ready to meet her liege. I do like that she's putting on a show. These prudish Demacians warrant a little hardship.

I sometimes wonder how they cope with Shyvana. Maybe they can't see the woman through the scales, their loss.

Once again, I'm down to my bra and skirt, sweltering in Demacia's warm climate. I'm covered in sweat and sunburn. Volibear pants in the shade of the forecastle. We notice our mutual discomfort and look away. He's mortified we share anything.

Sarah lowers the boarding ramp and whistles. 'Come on, little bird. You're the hometown hero. It's only fair that you go first.' Valor swoops onto the pier before anyone can object. He knocks over two dockworkers then perches, like a military standard, on a flagpole. The dockmaster roars expletives while Quinn covers her face in embarrassment. Sarah laughs. 'Ah, I forgot we had an actual bird.'

Quinn says, 'He can't bear someone else being the centre of attention.'

'You'll get your day in the sun.' With a playful shove, Sarah propels Quinn over the threshold. 'Enough holding back. You've got one life. Drink, fuck and fly, babe! If Jarvan gives you shit, your Auntie Fortune will burn down his harbour and treat you to the filthiest whores in Bilgewater.'

The crew cheer. Some of them offer the names of their favourite women. I hear an "Ashe" in there. Quinn smiles awkwardly. 'I'm sure that won't be necessary but thank you.'

'Pleasure's all mine.' Sarah gives Quinn's buttock a loud slap. 'Fuck, you're tight! Swing your hips and let Ashe know what she's passing up.'

I can love the sight of someone walking ahead, but not walking away. Quinn glances back and I nearly cry.

Next up is Volibear. He bows deeply before Sarah. 'Captain Fortune, you have done a great service for the Winter's Claw and for me, personally. Should you grace our lands, you will be a guest of honour until our stores grow bare.' Few can express noble gratitude so well. Diplomats would sell their firstborn to learn from Volibear's grace though I doubt he'd accept the compliment.

Sarah's bosom heaves in her corset. 'Ooh, they say the Winter's Claw know how to party.' She clears her throat. 'Look, I know I had my reasons but I'm sorry for hooking you up to our engines. I've made a lot of calls in my time but I'm not used to playing with the lives of good people.'

'I commend your actions with all my heart. Even if my life were forfeit, I would have begged you to stay your course.'

'By the kraken, you're every girl's dream.'

'I know plenty who'd say otherwise but thank you.'

'They're lying. Trust me.' Sarah takes his arm. 'Serious talk, I don't claim to know what's going on with the Freljord. I know Ashe is an awful tart, and you don't see eye to eye, but… she's bad in a good way. Keep her about, if you can.'

'You underestimate her. She's a danger to many people, especially Sejuani.'

Sarah doesn't budge. 'I want to see all of you when I visit.'

'You're asking the wrong person.' He cradles the strongbox. 'Only one of us can truly pass judgement on Ashe.'

'You think? I'd say there's one other.' Sarah's eyes follow Quinn along the pier. She cuts a lonely figure, hands in front of her low neckline while passers-by glance in disapproval. This is a real test for her.

Volibear drums his claws. 'Hmm… you may have a point.' He nods in farewell. 'Good hunting. If I don't pay my debt in this life, Captain Fortune, I will do so in the next.' He shuffles down the ramp.

It's just me and Sarah now. She says, flatly, 'Hey, girlfriend.'

'Interfering again?' I say. 'You're as bad as I am.'

'Show some gratitude. You need somebody on your side who's not fucking you.'

'My husband already fills that role.'

'So you both do whatever, huh? Do you have a similar arrangement with your crazy barbarian princess?'

'You could say that.'

Sarah looks unconvinced. 'So you're in trouble?'

'Not for the reason you think.'

'I won't ask.' She sighs. 'Your life is a mess. I'd sooner have my problems. At least I can shoot most of them.'

'I don't know. I couldn't bear the pain of losing my…'

'That's enough!' She checks our surroundings. 'I totally regret saying anything. Should've known you'd get all broody.'

'You should look her up.'

'I shouldn't.' She fidgets under my gaze. 'What are you perving at?'

'You should look her up.'

Sarah curses my persistence. 'Fine, but I have two conditions. I won't put out any feelers until Bilgewater's under my heel, and you're providing a home if it all goes wrong.'

'I'm sure there are better destinations.'

'Well that sounds like your problem, bitch.'

'I guess it is.' The time has come. I should take my leave as Queen of the Freljord. Instead, I hold onto my freedom as long as I can. 'I'll miss you, Sarah.'

She looks down with contempt at my open arms, but relents and embraces me. She's plucked soft and smells of rose water. Just as I'm falling asleep in her feminine cocoon, she surprises me with a kiss. 'Look after yourself, Ashe. I don't have many friends.'

'You said it.' She blows a curl out of her face in mock annoyance. 'We have to do this again sometime.'

'Definitely. You fancy a trip to Piltover?'

'Yes, I'd love to bring some of their technology back home.'

'Eh, the tech's good, but the people are dull as dishwater. Their black market is a man selling tax-free cigarettes in a bar. I get most of my gear from Zaun.' She waves off her tangent. 'I'm going because the Sherriff's marrying her woman… or her woman's marrying her, not sure who proposed… and I got a plus one. Can't think of anyone I'd rather take.'

My heart skips a beat. 'Women can marry there?'

'Caitlyn has money and power so she can do what she likes but… yes, apparently.' The possibilities are whooshing through my head. I'm already planning little ceremonies and outfits. 'Damn, girl, you're picking out your bridal gown already.'

'How did you...?'

She winks. 'Women's intuition.' What am I then? 'Ah, I think you and Cait would get along like a ship on fire. She's another gilded slut with a long stick up her fat ass. Massive tits as well, but you seem to like them small.'

'It's all about the person. While we're on the subject, I doubt even a fairy-tale wedding is worth your company.'

'Aw…'

'Joking aside, I'd love to go but…'

'Responsibilities, hey? Just remember the offer's there if a miracle happens.'

'I will. If it doesn't, you could always take Quinn.'

Sarah beams. 'Can you imagine? She'd be bawling her eyes out, running to catch the bouquet, fainting with happiness. You reckon she'd show up in a suit or a dress?'

'Either would work.'

'Oh, come on. You've got to have a preference.'

'Can she be naked?'

'You filthy mare, get off my ship.'

I depart _The Syren_ with a spring in my step. A gentle sorrow, not unwelcome, touches my heart. Sarah and I probably won't meet for many years, but ours is a good parting, free of injustice and regret.

As I descend onto the pier, my legs feel stiff and wobbly. Two men await us. One is the ever-inscrutable Xin Zhao. The other is a lithe, dark-skinned man with a chiselled frown. He carries twin guns of obscure design.

Before any of us can exchange pleasantries, the newcomer says, 'You're alive. Did you find your lost soul?'

I keep silent. I've no idea who this man is. Quinn looks to Xin Zhao for guidance. When he doesn't oblige, she ventures, 'I think so, Lucian, but we nearly paid in kind.'

'I would pay anything to free Senna.' He turns with a flick of his heavy linen coat. How is he not melting? 'Thank you, my lady.' He departs.

With maddening serenity, Xin Zhao says, 'Why did you tell him?'

Quinn flushes. 'He deserved to know. If it were _my_ wife in chains, I'd…' We're back in Demacia now. She has to mind her reputation. 'We know how determined Lucian is. If we hadn't told him, he might have interrogated Sa… Captain Fortune or struck a deal with Lux. He discovered our mission by himself. Isn't it safer to keep him as a friend if we can't hide anything?'

'I'm sure Lucian will remember your co-operation.'

'I wasn't manipulating him for my benefit!'

'Regardless, you've earnt his goodwill.' Xin Zhao lowers his voice, pronouncing each word with the laboured accuracy of an immigrant. 'I must warn you, as one low-born outsider to another. Be careful. I respect your boldness, and agree with your call, but referring Lucian to Prince Jarvan would have been protocol. Even if you act with wisdom, you risk looking like an upstart for acting alone.'

I'm getting angry with him. 'Don't you think that bird's already flown?'

'Quinn has to start assessing risks rather than simply taking them. Soon, she may be gambling with lives other than her own.'

Volibear steps in. 'Are you threatening us?'

'No, you are to be our guests until Quinn has delivered her report.' So Jarvan is taking us prisoner while he debriefs Quinn. I don't blame him. Anything could have happened to us out there.

Volibear clutches the egg a little closer. 'Fine, but Sejuani's soul is ours. Keep your non-existent mages at arm's length.'

'We will. The less our "non-existent mages" have to do with that vessel, the better.'


	35. Faith - Chapter 18

**Faith – Chapter 18**

The Demacians were hospitable this time around. Volibear got a room rather than a cage. My chamber feels unsettlingly cool with its white sheets and white walls. Everything is lavish but itchy. The sterile air tickles my lungs.

At least I have wine, a familiar Cabernet. Quinn had gifted me the same before we first made love. I hope its appearance isn't a romantic gesture on her part. I drink one small glass to settle my nerves and leave the bottle out of sight. I need my wits about me.

I sleep one restless night. Xin Zhao cheerfully serves breakfast and supper. Nobody changes the sheets, which is a mercy. I prefer grime to starch.

I've little to do but read and exercise. Luckily, my hosts have provided enough books. I plough through tedious propaganda for stray morsels of knowledge. One of the books is an epic romance about fair knights and fair maidens. To my surprise, there's even sex, even if the details are hidden by metaphor and antiquated language. Is this one of the stories Quinn grew up on? She probably got off to this a few times. Unfortunately, this environment shrivels my libido. No fun for me.

Late afternoon, as the sky grows dark outside my window, somebody knocks. When I don't hear Xin Zhao's call, I draw my dagger. Hidden threats roam every country.

'Queen Ashe?' I know that voice. Jarvan's come in person. 'Are you decent?'

I hunt for the wine bottle and pour myself another glass. 'Well, I'm dressed.' I need something to hold. Otherwise, my hands will give too much away.

Jarvan enters, wearing a simple indigo tunic and loose britches. Without his armour, he could be an off-duty nightwatchman. Doesn't he have a hairdresser? By all accounts, he's a dynamic fighter but he looks malnourished. He surveys the room, as if expecting an ambush. 'Do you mind if I sit?' I hear no warmth in his etiquette.

'Of course not.'

I suck my teeth as he drags a chair to face mine. His limbs fold into the low, narrow seat. Finally, he says, 'I've spoken with Quinn.'

'She's not a liar.'

'No, but she's withholding something.'

'We all have our secrets.' He doesn't respond. 'What has she told you?'

'Quinn offered her soul in exchange for Sejuani's. The deal collapsed when Valor asserted a prior claim. Apparently, the bird is an avatar for something.'

I take a swig of wine. 'She's been chosen, while we languish in her shadow.'

'Perhaps. We can't assume Valor's intent.' I smell a job for Lux. 'Moving on, Volibear defeated Kalista with the help of Karthus, another wrinkle in our tale. The Deathsinger is hardly known for his beneficence, yet he favours you.'

'Not a pleasant thought.'

'You should watch your tread. Few people survive his attention for long. Your people may be at risk.'

'What are you implying? I have no control over what he does.' My glass is already half-empty. 'Granted, I've many vices but necromancy isn't one of them.'

'We know. Luxanna swept your palace.' You smug bastard, I swear I'm going to throttle that girl. 'After Kalista fell, Captain Fortune used Volibear's regeneration to fuel your escape. He made a full recovery and upheld her decision.'

'You've spoken to him.'

'We were impressed with his character. No doubt, we would be cursing his name had we merged our forces.'

'You must be so grateful that I slept with Quinn.'

Jarvan doesn't bite. 'Volibear confirmed one detail. Your tribes are bitterly opposed, regardless of your entente with Sejuani.'

'My proposal to you was in good faith. I _told_ you that she was intransigent, and her people doubly so. They left me no choice.'

'Lest we forget, you had given us cause to suspect your narrative.'

'How? I dwell on my faults as much as anyone but I could be the worst human being and it would not…' I feel sick. 'It would not change...' With one frantic gulp, I finish my drink. _All is vanity. Nothing you are matters._ The phrases churn within my stomach. I don't know whether I believe them, but I can't swallow them.

'I think you've drank enough, Ashe. Pass me the bottle.'

I blink. How did it get into my hand? 'Is that an order?'

'No, but Quinn wouldn't forgive me for letting you do this.'

Avarosa, he's a manipulative swine. 'Oh, she gets me drunk when it suits her. Believe me.' I nearly throw the bottle at his head.

He doesn't comment, either unwilling or unable to defend Quinn's honour. 'You resumed your… dalliance with the understanding it was temporary.'

'Dalliance is too small a word, and I'll always be fond of Quinn.' I submerge my hostility in kinder memories. 'But you're superficially correct.'

Fury colours Jarvan's neck. 'You claim to be fond of her? Then why let Quinn squander her virtue? She has little else to her name!'

'If your country dealt her a poor hand, shouldn't _you_ right the balance?'

'My power is not absolute. I have to consider my father, hostile nobles and salacious rumours when I put forth her case. You've injured her prospects, immeasurably. How can I prepare Quinn for public life when tales of debauchery shadow her?'

'They will come regardless, and she would have strayed, sooner or later. Perhaps I was just convenient.' I feel as if I'm digesting a stone.

'You had age and authority over her. Don't think you can drop your charge so readily.'

'My behaviour was irresponsible, and Quinn is her own woman with her own drives. Both of these things are true.' The conclusion brings me no joy. Where can you go from it?

'She was born to lead, not follow.' Jarvan clasps his hands before his chin. 'But there is one drive which eludes me.'

'You've spoken to her. Did you not like her answer?'

'No, something's missing. I had my suspicions and Volibear confirmed them, but I fear only you can reveal the thread.'

'How unfortunate.'

Is he smiling? 'You're naïve to assume you're the worst person I must indulge.' He continues. 'When Kalista laid out her terms, Quinn offered herself in place of you or Volibear.'

'She did. Volibear and I were too busy arguing. We should have paid more attention.'

'Yes, if Quinn's plan had worked, she would have been lost forever.'

'Bound to vengeance, never to know love or rest, a fate worse than oblivion.'

Jarvan lets the gravity of Quinn's choice echo through the silence. 'Why would she choose it?'

'What reason did she give?'

He says with no twist of sarcasm. 'Her sacrifice would bring peace to the north and our countries would usher in a new golden age.'

I wonder if Quinn left out the "two women ruling as a beacon of hope" angle or if Jarvan's too scornful to mention it. 'I long for that as much as anyone but I may not fulfil her promise. There are too many bridges to cross.'

'Did you tell Quinn otherwise?'

'No, but even if I tried to mislead her, Volibear's opposition is all too plain.'

'Which leaves two possibilities. Either Quinn was blinded by her own zeal…' His voice wavers. 'Or she was taking her own life.'

'Yes.'

Jarvan stares at the floor. He wants to blame me for this. Publicly, he may still do. 'Why?'

'She saw no future where she could be herself.'

'Quinn told me that all she wanted was to serve Demacia. I expect everyone to have private lives, but I sincerely thought her duty was reason enough to live.'

'I don't think you were wrong. She likely found service a welcome distraction from her loneliness… until she met me.'

'Are you claiming responsibility for this?'

'Not in the way you think. She's a little obsessed with me but… I think it will pass.' My eyes grow warm. 'If anything, I'll be the one dreaming of her.'

Jarvan betrays no sympathy. 'So how did you change her path? Did you raise her expectations?'

'Do you think she'd aspire to my furtive existence? I'm a cautionary tale if anything.' It's time to put Sejuani's theory to the test. 'What _should_ Quinn expect? What are your intentions towards her?'

Jarvan glances towards the door. He lowers his voice. 'I guess there's no point hiding it. You're a perceptive woman. For once, you live up to your reputation.'

'Thank you but someone else worked it out. I might introduce you, one day.'

'So long as you didn't hear it from Luxanna… but yes, Quinn was marked as a potential bride. The reasons were manifold. I'm sure you don't need to hear them.'

'I guess learning that she preferred women was devastating.'

'It was.'

I'm surprised by his blunt answer. 'Do you love her?'

Jarvan stammers, just a little. 'We have different expectations of that word, Ashe. I love Demacia, and I would love her queen.'

For the first time, I feel sorry for him. 'Well, Quinn's easy to love. You can be sure of that.'

'I'll be generous and assume you're not slighting her virtue.'

My pity vanishes. 'Thank you, but remember virtue is cheap when all your needs are met.'

'We could snipe all day but it would achieve nothing.' Fine, don't admit I have a point. 'So you told Quinn your suspicions?'

'I did, but I presented your marriage as an opportunity, not a threat. I emphasised what good she might achieve, but it was a mistake. I pushed her over the edge.'

'I see.' Jarvan studies his hand, as though contemplating an absent ring. 'To know that she would sooner face death than… it is a humbling thought. I would not require love, or even friendship, so long as she could lead our people and supply an heir. That would be all.'

'Do you still consider her a potential queen?'

'Certainly. She's willing to die for a better world, and her loyalties are now plain.'

I'm surprised enough that I have to press Jarvan on the subject. 'You're not worried about them?'

'Every knight answers to more than one call. Many would put their children before their country, despite their vows.' I hear a trace of bitterness. 'Quinn would also defy me to voice the concerns of the peasantry, but if they're not represented, we risk losing them to darker forces.'

'You seek a loyal opposition to consolidate your power.'

'Correct. I don't retain lickspittles. Quinn, Luxanna, Garen, Shyvana, and even Xin Zhao have all raised their voices to me. So long as it's behind closed doors and in good faith, I welcome it. Other perspectives might save me from defeat or damnation.'

If only Sejuani, Volibear and I could survive that process. 'What happens now? Quinn deserves to know your intent.'

'I'll tell Quinn, so long as Demacia has need of heroes, I'll have need of her. She may serve in whatever capacity she chooses.'

I nearly hug him in gratitude, but Quinn deserves more than the bare minimum. 'What if she chooses to start a family with another woman?'

'Ashe, if you can't impose acceptance on a country that you're essentially founding, what am I to do? Perhaps I'd entertain your criticism if you'd sought Quinn as a wife but you've been entirely selfish.'

I catch my breath. Does that mean Jarvan would have let Quinn go to be my…? No, I must forget that possibility. 'This goes beyond my failings. You'll risk losing her again if she can't dream.'

Jarvan grapples with my warning. 'Once, we lost a promising leader to similar passions. Taric found redemption without us but, after Quinn's escape, I suspect the fates will not allow us a third lapse.' He tents his fingers. 'I can promise little, Ashe. Until mores change, the best I can do is turn a blind eye to her activities. Perversely, hiding them will be simple if we marry. Then we can retain her companions as bodyguards or ladies-in-waiting. Also, if she…' Jarvan grimaces. 'Entertains women, we can be sure any offspring are of my blood.'

I push him. 'Living in secret won't end well.'

'Here, they'll burn her as a witch. I can't openly defend her. Politics aside, I'm uncomfortable with her deviance.' I scowl. 'And it will show. Quinn deserves a better advocate. I'll do what I can but if it isn't enough by your measure then I must fall short.'

'As long as you don't abandon her, she'll change your mind about us.'

'I can believe that.' He thaws a little. 'After all, your misguided affair saved lives. Instead of conquest, we've aided collaboration. It is a small and fragile gain, but with enough progress, you might achieve your goal of a united Freljord.'

'I tell myself that. Unfortunately, Volibear was not impressed with me, and he may be the true crux of our nation.'

'Volibear may not like you, but he co-operates regardless. He could have told us anything this morning and we'd have taken his word over yours. Whatever your sins, you've earnt loyalty without friendship. That is a powerful thing, Ashe, and it may carry you farther than his affections ever will.'

Quinn and Volibear must have held their tongues about the depth of my entanglement with Sejuani. Jarvan doesn't appreciate Volibear is bound against his will. 'Believe me. His discretion is a bad omen. I fear he's disengaging.'

'You know him better than I do.'

The conversation lulls. I think this is a natural ending. 'So... can we part on good terms? I don't expect your country's aid anymore, but I hope we can begin again, one day.'

'The past remains,' Jarvan says. 'You've insulted Demacia by concealing your nature, blackmailing us and seducing a potential queen, but you shone a light into some dark places and I've learnt enough that I won't seek restitution.'

'Thank you. That is remarkably generous.'

'To be frank, I have no choice. Your tribe is the bulwark, Ashe. Weakening you would only imperil Demacia.' He must also want to stay in Quinn's good books. 'Resolve your feud with the Winter's Claw then we'll discuss the Watchers. Until then we'll keep our distance.'

'That's fair. Look after Quinn for me.'

'I will. To that end, we'll keep you separate.'

'Oh… I would have liked a chance to say goodbye.'

'Your love was an earthquake, and we're still feeling its echoes. Once they disperse, the two of you may salvage what you can.'

I protest. 'Assuming we're both still alive. You don't appreciate how scarce our chances are.'

'Maybe not,' he says. 'But I can't afford any further disruption.'

'You'll excuse me if I don't thank you for this… but I _will_ thank you for using the word "love" instead of "deviance". It's a bigger step forward than you know.'

Something flickers in Jarvan's gaze. 'It is… impossible to hear Quinn speak of you and use any other.'

I'm stunned 'She…' My body convulses. I'm sobbing loudly. 'She has to forget me. This has to end, even if it hurts.' Endings always hurt, even… _especially_ for stories that should never be.

Jarvan has nothing. I've tested the limits of his empathy. Words of comfort are difficult for the man, but impossible for the prince. 'We'll organise your departure for the Freljord. Weep while you can. Your people need you strong.'

'Look after Quinn,' I blubber.

He closes the door behind him.


	36. Faith - Chapter 19

**Faith – Chapter 19**

The humidity crushes my will. My pack is already chafing. Volibear stews nearby, actively ignoring me.

I risk an opening. 'I'll be glad when we're home.'

'What is home, Ashe? Your Freljord is a myth and I've betrayed everyone except you.' He turns away, finishing our conversation.

We're cooking on a stony hillock, opposite a goods entrance to the Citadel of Dawn. Xin Zhao had led us outside and rattled away with a curt, if pleasant, farewell. Apparently, there's an escort on its way but why Jarvan's left us without supervision is anyone's guess. It feels eerie, like we're being offered enough rope to hang ourselves. Maybe he's giving us a chance to bolt so he needn't waste anyone's time.

Just as I'm running out of patience, a familiar screech turns my head. Am I hearing things? Am I that lovesick?

Volibear also reacts. 'What is Jarvan playing at?'

Valor circles above. A woman calls out, 'Oh, His Majesty's only responsible for half of this.'

Even after all this time, I struggle to recognise Quinn's voice. That ordinary cadence, too shy to boast an accent, could furnish any commoner's lips, which has always been part of Quinn's charm.

Her red hair is cut short and high. She's exchanged her bodice for a leather crop top, lined with white fur. Below, her taut abdomen glistens. After trying on Sarah's come-hither swish, Quinn's embraced her own primal, androgynous allure.

Quinn laughs. 'Come on. Tell me what you think. I'm dying here.'

Volibear answers while I gawk in open lust. 'You look like a true warrior of the Freljord.'

'Thank you. Perhaps I took inspiration from the loveliest woman I know.' She winks.

I say, 'Quinn, you're magnificent! I can't look away! My knees are trembling.'

'Are you saying I should haul you back?' She looks wistful. 'Sorry, Volibear, I didn't come to steal Ashe.' He grunts. 'I'd love nothing more than to escort you but only Valor has that privilege.' She watches him with equal parts envy and affection. 'Jarvan's little indulgence.'

'Maybe that's for the… Wait, you called him "Jarvan"?'

'I did?' She scratches her nose. 'Yeah, we spoke at length. I don't think I'd ever seen him so vulnerable. He… you know, don't you? He spoke to you first.'

I don't want to hear this. 'Did he ask you to marry him?'

'Sort of?' We can't look at each other. 'He laid it on thick, said I was chosen by providence, that I bore the heart and soul of a queen.'

'You do.'

'Please don't say that! I don't want to believe it and you convinced me I was attractive.' She touches her waist. 'You're dangerous.'

I don't return her smile. 'I am.'

'We both are. Jarvan said it was a virtue, that I'd force his hand if needed.'

'You don't sound convinced.'

'Eh… I don't have that much faith in my judgement, only my taste in women.'

Volibear speaks up. 'Faith can wax or wane, provided you fight when called.'

Resolve lights up Quinn's face. 'I think I can do that.'

'As do I,' says Volibear.

My mouth is dry as I force the question. 'Did you accept?'

'Erm…' Quinn shuffles. 'Well, I'm under no pressure. Jarvan insisted I could serve as a knight instead, and regardless of what I choose, I have…' She can barely speak through her grin. 'Permission to keep a lover.'

The dawn rises on Demacia. 'That is wonderful!'

'Yeah, the only drawback is that Lux has to vet them first.'

'Oh, that's awkward.' Lux had tried to position herself as a gatekeeper to Quinn's happiness. Now it's official.

Quinn sighs. 'You're telling me. Hopefully she'll grow bored of the job, like everything.'

After a short pause, I ask, a little firmer than intended, 'Are you going to accept?'

'I… don't know.' She knows the wrong answer might hurt me. 'Nothing seems real but I took your advice and thought about what _I'd_ want. I proposed a few changes and, amazingly, Jarvan listened.'

'You sound surprised.'

'Oh, he's not ignorant. He pays attention to everyone. I just didn't expect him to suffer any demands. After all, he's offered me the greatest honour he can bestow, and I looked it right in the mouth. It's hard not to feel ungrateful.'

'Don't feel ungrateful. He's proposing an alliance from which he stands to gain.'

She waggles her eyebrows. 'Well, you'll be glad to know I dug in my heels and lectured him for over an hour.'

'That's wonderful!'

'Aren't I? He served abroad with the military and had little exposure to peasant life. Maybe I'm kidding myself, but he seemed appreciative. He did warn me that progress would be slow as erm… "decrees are dangerous".'

'He'll have nobles and merchants who'll make his life difficult if he acts without them.' For now, all I have to worry about is Tryndamere, who gladly follows my lead. I should count my blessings more often.

'I'd rather he took us labourers into account.' She folds her arms. 'You know? The people who built Demacia? That was one thing. Also, I… heavens above, I can't believe I said this.'

'Go on?'

'I told him if I have to provide an heir, we have to make sure I can do so before marriage. I don't want to go through the ceremony to let everyone down.'

Against my will, I picture her on top, ordering Jarvan about. 'Oh my, how did that go down?'

'About as well as you'd think. He was totally scandalised, red as a beetroot! After that, I had an easy time calling him "Jarvan".'

So he's a virgin? I thought all noble men were hypocrites about sex. I'm unsure if I have more or less respect for him. 'I'll remember that when we have to negotiate again. Did he…?'

'No. He grumbled about fulfilling his duty then changed the subject. I'm waiting for his answer. He has to decide whether I'm worth his honour before I consider his proposal. The pressure's on him as much as me. Thank you, Ashe. I owe that one to you.'

'Not at all, Quinn. Your strength is your own.'

Volibear comes between us. Without a word, he directs Quinn's gaze to his own. Lightning crackles. I feel my hair lift as the charge intensifies. A flash turns Volibear's head, like a slap from a yeti. He blinks as the air clears. 'You are powerful, Quinn. Your trials have tempered your soul.'

She says, 'I don't fully understand what you're seeing but I feel stronger.'

'They nearly destroyed you but you've risen like a phoenix.' He looks at Sejuani's vessel. 'I have one question. Is your life better for meeting Ashe?'

Quinn glitters. 'I now have a future, not as a quiet servant but as _me_. And regardless of what happens, I have wonderful memories to hold at night.' A blush colours her neck. 'So yes, my life is better.'

'That is all.' He kneels and takes Quinn's hand. 'You risked all for my beloved. Your courage exceeds that of our greatest warriors. The Winter's Claw and Ursine would accept you with open arms.'

'You don't think Sejuani would skewer me like a pig?'

'Oh no, she loves pigs.' A brief chuckle softens Volibear's decorum. 'I can't say how she'd react, frostily perhaps. I still believe an exchange would enlighten you both.'

'After spending so much time with you and Ashe, I've lost all sight of her. Rumours painted a scary picture. Now, she's become a blur.'

I say, 'That is closer to the truth. I don't think of her as one Sejuani. She's a broken web of dissimilar, gorgeous patterns. I can reach out and sometimes draw them together but I'm unsure if they truly belong.'

Volibear nods in agreement. 'Sejuani is a storm unto herself.'

Quinn rubs the back of her head. It must feel fuzzy where the hair's been shaved. 'I'm even more confused. I'll meet her one day, if only to apologise for sleeping with her woman, but I'll give her space for now. Demacia will thank me for letting her wounds heal. A war with one country is bad enough.'

'Don't wait forever,' says Volibear. 'Human lives are brief and Sejuani will wish to express her gratitude, even if it pains her.'

Quinn says with innocent curiosity, '"Human" lives? Do you live that much longer than us?'

'We are harder to kill,' says Volibear. His grey fur shimmers like a veil. Anivia described the Ursine as having "no thread". We have conflicting reports on their society, numbers and life expectancies. Nobody seems to know Volibear's age. His regeneration only deepens that mystery.

'I can believe that,' says Quinn. 'I'm sorry that I wasn't open with you from the start.'

'Ashe leads everyone astray. The fault lies with her but thank you nonetheless.'

Quinn pleads with upturned eyes. 'Do you think you'll ever get on?'

Volibear hesitates. 'I'd rather not disappoint you.'

'She let me be human. It almost killed me, but I wouldn't lose that for the world. And she could let others be human, even your Sejuani.' Volibear flinches. I can't say if Quinn's overstepped her bounds, or delivered a revelation. 'Yes, I know first-hand what draws people to Ashe.'

Volibear's hind claws dig into the soil. 'The desire to fall as much as live.'

'Maybe… to fall is to be human?'

'I doubt it,' he says, the hint of a smile tempering his answer, 'But I am not human.'

'Either way, I know you'll be just.' She turns to me. 'What else is there to say, my queen?'

'I may be calling you that soon.'

'Don't.' She closes the distance. 'You were my first love, and if you prove my last, I'll consider my life well-lived.'

'You have everything ahead of you, my lynx.'

'You'll be a tough act to follow.' Words fail us until she crushes me in a strong embrace. I lay my head upon her soft, fluffy pauldron and run my hands up her back. She smells clean for once and I'm staining her with my tears. 'Look after yourself. You may feel the world is on your shoulders but we'll be fine. I'll be fine.'

'Part of me doesn't want you to be fine.'

She giggles. 'I know. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be crying myself to sleep all week.'

'Only a week?'

'Is a month enough?' She strokes my hair. 'What about forever?' she whispers.

'No!' My snuffles grow louder. 'Not forever, that would make me sad.'

'All right.' She kisses my cheek. 'I have one condition.'

'What?'

'If you lose everything…' She draws back and seizes my head, forcing me to look into her golden eyes. 'Run away. Come to Demacia.'

My defiance returns. 'Quinn, I can't abandon my people!'

'I know. The shame of desertion would kill me too, so I can't ask you to run as a favour, but…'

'You can ask it as payment for rescuing Sejuani?'

She nods. Whichever I choose, I'm a villain. Do I scorn Quinn's heroic sacrifice or leave my people in their final hour? Volibear says, 'Ashe, we've been here before.'

'How so?'

'Recall, you gave me a choice. Abandon my cub or cross enemy lines. I chose the latter.'

'Yes, now you get to watch me squirm,' I say. Volibear doesn't express any pleasure at my discomfort. 'Why did you follow me?'

'I knew my sleuth would endure my absence but I couldn't endure without Sejuani.'

'I see… then I should leave you in peace, Quinn. You'll soar higher without my cloud in your sky.'

She laughs. 'Just like you to hear the wrong lesson. I'll be fine, I'm sure. This is about you.' She runs a hand through my hair. 'Maybe you'll face defeat in love and war but you still deserve a life. Others will fight your cause if it is just. Heroes will rise, and you can rest with your regrets, your failures… and with me.'

Volibear says with grim humour. 'Should you fail, skalds will sing of "Queen Ashe, the coward", rather than "Queen Ashe, the martyr". That seems like an apt legacy.'

'Maybe it is.' The sun breaks through and shines everywhere but me. 'Then someone better could unite the Freljord. Who knows? Maybe the tribes will do it without a leader. My debt would have more bearing than my reputation.'

Quinn says, 'And I would help you find peace.'

'If anyone could, it would be you.' I close my eyes and breathe my promise. 'Quinn, if I lose everything, I will try to live.'

'And I will do the same.' She kisses me with the slow rhythm of waves lapping against a quiet shore. My feet leave the ground. For a moment I'm weightless, untangled from everything except one woman's love and care.

For the first time in years, I feel young. A quaking void yawns within, waiting to be filled with experience. I'm scared. I had never imagined a life apart from destiny. My vision clears. Below the twin peaks of triumph and failure stretches an eternal marsh. I can descend and walk through the lilies and reeds. I can touch infinity.

Quinn lets go, her voice ragged with emotion. 'I should leave now, before Jarvan finds out. I'm supposed to be with Lux in case I'm infested with dark magic or something.'

I jump on the chance to lighten our farewell. 'So you're trapped in a room with her? She must love that.'

'She does.' Quinn rolls her eyes. 'But I shouldn't complain. She let me come and see you.'

'Aw, she's not all bad. You'll have to give her my thanks.' I shrug off my backpack and rummage for her gift. 'Along with this.'

'Oh no, you didn't!' I produce the grey rose from Karthus' garden, crushed flat but as defiant as the lich himself. 'I told you not to pick any flowers!'

'I'm a naughty girl.' I press the rose to her breastbone. 'Take it. You can find your own happiness.'

'With Lux? Are you mad?'

'With or without, she'll make a strong ally.' Quinn stubbornly balls her fist as my free hand skates down her arm. 'Besides, if you consider her dangerous, you should keep her close.'

'By tangling myself up in her schemes?'

'Or her body. There's a lot of power to be gained from both, and you'll need every advantage.' I tug at her wrist, guiding her hand to the flower. 'Lux is brilliant enough that Runeterra may fall to her, and she's opened up to you. For the sake of Demacia, leap on this chance.'

Quinn screws up her eyes. 'I can't make a decision now but… answer one question for me. Forget all the politics. What do you think of Lux as a person?'

'I'm jealous of her youth, intelligence and audacity but I think she's lonely.'

'She gets around enough.' Quinn pouts. 'Any pretty boys who stumble into Demacia, stumble into her bed.'

'I was promiscuous when I was younger but I made few connections. With every girl, I affirmed our shared humanity then cast it aside until you broke the cycle.'

'You're just saying…'

'No, you're that special. Without you, I might have languished in denial forever. Lux recognises that. I suspect she plays games because everyone else does, and she's righteous enough to see through them. Help her to throw light on the world and you may be her salvation, as you were mine.'

We're almost there. Quinn touches the rose. 'I don't think she's evil but living in secret has jaded her. She'll get worse if she's left alone.'

'Yes.'

With a loud whistle, Quinn summons Valor. He thrusts his large head between us, ruining our moment. 'Val, could you take this rose for me? Keep it safe until I ask for it back.'

He takes the flower as though judging its edibility. I feel anxious. 'Will he be careful?'

Valor scolds me with a narrow look, while Quinn strokes his neck. 'Yeah, I trust him as much as anybody. He may goof around but he always comes through.' Valor clicks his tongue at me then flies away. 'So this is goodbye then?'

'I think so.'

'Give the Freljord my love. We'll meet again, I'm sure, but until then, be happy… and…' she hiccups. A tear rolls down her face. 'Please don't forget me.'

'Death itself couldn't rip your name from my heart, Sir Quinn.'

'Or yours from mine. Farewell, Ashe, my northern star.'

* * *

As we depart, I walk backwards, returning Quinn's wave. My foot hits a rock and I nearly fall. I see Quinn laugh kindly as I regain my balance. I can't walk backwards forever. Giving up, I finally turn.

Grief courses through me, noisy and undignified. I mew like a housecat as my chest spasms. When we reach the crest of the hill, I'm doubled over in pain. I give one last wave to Quinn, who's little more than a flame-haired speck, then I cut the cord and vanish over the horizon.

I'm sorry, Sejuani. I wish I could see you and you alone. I wish I didn't love every desirable woman who showed me kindness… or weakness. I wish you could accept your jealousy. I wish your toxic upbringing didn't insist I fulfil some "alpha female" role and fuck everything in sight, including your boundaries.

I wish my lust were as foul and untroubled as that ideal. I wish I weren't weeping over Quinn, dousing your desire with my snot. I wish it weren't inevitable that, one day, I'll say her name in your bed.

I wish I were more than Ashe and less than your goddess.

I wish I were dead.

No, I want more than death. I wish I were nothing.

I could walk into the plains. I could fade, leave no trace.

A claw brushes my shoulder. 'Keep walking.'

I hear no comfort or threat, a simple directive. I look up at Volibear. He gazes ahead, as always.

'Love is a verb, Ashe.' The words repeat as though confirmed by the wind. 'Love is a verb. Your passions will change with the storm. Bolts of ardour will scar your landscape. So long as you feed your cubs, listen to their fears, and _walk_ with them through the shadows, you _love_. Your actions, not your feelings, reveal the depths of your care. Don't fade away. Keep walking.'

'Was I thinking out loud?'

'Perhaps. I sometimes forget where my hearing ends and my visions begin.'

'Oh…' Should I feel embarrassed? As I become aware, logical thoughts rise through my self-hatred. 'I wouldn't be here without my feelings. Your guidance is practical but…'

'You don't have to believe it. All you have to do is keep… on… walking.' Volibear sounds as though he's crawling across an ocean bed. 'Away from Quinn, away from temptation, back…' He swallows the word "home".

'Don't say it.' I look at my feet. 'I don't want your acceptance, or Sejuani's really, but I'll see this through to the end.'

'There is no end, Ashe. The road is our final destination,' he says. 'For too long, I prayed otherwise. I watched and listened for the means to banish you from Sejuani's life, or a reason to step aside and allow her the risk of loving you.'

'How did you not reach a verdict? I've disgraced everyone.'

'You have.' The confirmation drops like an axe. 'You're impulsive, craven, dishonest, self-absorbed, arrogant, irresponsible, manipulative and senseless… and a better person would have lost one of us to Kalista. Because you were foolish enough to lay Quinn, we triumphed without loss. I can't ignore that. You fought an ugly campaign and won. You damned yourself while I… fretted over breaking a nail.' He recalls his words at the start of our journey.

'Destiny might have intervened regardless.' I don't want him to justify my behaviour. Who else will protect Sejuani when she does the same?

'There is no destiny. Time isn't an arrow but a…' Volibear pauses. 'Time isn't an arrow.' He slows to a stop.

Anticipation grows. Where is this going? 'Volibear?'

He peers at me. 'Do you believe in your claim? Are you the descendant of Queen Avarosa?'

'There's no proof. Our genealogy goes back less than a century, but I can feel her watching over me. Her statues and cities were my home when I was young and lost. She gave me her bow and arrows. The Freljordian winter soothes me like a hearth. I guess my blood is little more than water but I _feel_ Iceborn.'

'I believe you,' he says, 'But we're missing something.'

'What?'

'Avarosa led through harmony while you sow chaos wherever you may roam. You tear people inside-out.' Volibear's deposition batters me like a hailstorm. 'Sejuani fought every moment of her life only to seek loss at your hand. I shed my fur to become an overprotective parent. With a marriage of convenience, you domesticated a vessel of undying rage. Karthus, the death-worshipper, struck a blow for the living. Vengeance broke upon our shield. Finally, Quinn chose to risk her life _then_ her soul rather than serve Demacia. Luckily for her, Jarvan proved subtle, which I'm laying at your feet as well.'

My head spins. 'People are complex, Volibear. Yes, my goal is to let them be more than fighters or slaves but I can't accept all credit.'

'You claim everything is your fault until someone agrees. No. This time, you're following your premise to its conclusion. I don't think these are coincidences. There are too many to dismiss. I believe you're descended from an Iceborn, Ashe… but it isn't Avarosa.'

He's wrong. I can feel her unseen arms. I know my fantasies are wild and raw but I can feel her so much! Avarosa was all I had. My birth mother was a traditional chieftain, a less complicated Sejuani, but Avarosa _knew_ me.

Trusting in a love that endured through my sins, I deny Volibear. 'No, she's here! Aren't you a shaman? Your glowing eyes must see her.' They give nothing away. 'Don't you dare claim otherwise, because I can feel Avarosa like the ground beneath my feet.'

'Avalanches claim dozens each year… but you're not wrong. She saturates everything like one of your sickly perfumes.'

'Then why question it? What's the point of this?'

'What do you think was Avarosa's biggest regret?'

'How would I know? She tells me little of herself. The stories are all we…'

'Then go by the stories.'

I could ask her but she's rarely been direct. Where should I begin? She was an Iceborn queen but a person like any of us. Go with something obvious, domestic…

Oh no.

Volibear notices my dithering. 'Say it.'

'She died without making up with her little sister. They'd fought Lissandra together but…'

'Would you linger for generations because of that?'

'Yes.'

'And what would you do?'

Maternal anguish warms my body like a fever. I call out, 'Avarosa!'

_I failed her._

'Failed Serylda? But she abandoned you!'

_She was young. She needed room to grow. But I caged her to preserve our legacy. My walls became our tomb. _

'She carried on fighting while you protected others. You protected _me_. Think of all the children who found solace in your achievements, who could be themselves without fear!'

_The fear stayed with me, festered and overflowed upon my death. You've seen our graveyards. I failed all my children but especially her, my darling Serylda, the first failure from which all my pain blossomed._

'You can't accept responsibility for those marshalled against you!' My voice cracks. 'This is madness. Am I bringing ruin to the Freljord? Should I…'

_No! Never give up. You carry the spark of creation in your blood. Yes, the fear guides you but your heart rebels. You are not me. Take pride._

'So, Volibear was right? I'm not your descendant?'

_You are my child in many ways but not all of them, which is a blessing._

'What?'

_I'll speak no more. Feel my love. My regrets are merely poison._

'Avarosa, tell me!'

Her tenderness remains, draped over my shoulders like a heavy cloak. I wear so many layers, hair, skin and bone. I knew this body, once. I thought it was mine.

Volibear respects the silence until I break it. 'She didn't answer. For ten years, I persevered without evidence. Yet…'

'Your faith has been tested, as you tested mine.'

'Did it survive?'

'Barely. It hangs by a single thread.'

I wait in hope. 'Yes?'

'I saw Quinn grow strong in your fire,' he says quietly. 'Maybe Sejuani could as well.' Before I concur, his voice darkens. 'But even if she does, I can't forgive you for burning her. The conflict between those two judgements may never end. I need rest, which I never craved until you entered Sejuani's life. You sow discord at a deeper level than thought or flesh. You divide souls. Whether or not you're of Serylda's blood, you're a true scion of war.'

'So the Freljord will never know peace under my rule. Should I just… walk away?'

'No, because peace without resolution is torment. I'll not damn Sejuani to chasing your shadow. Better that she confront you.'

'Then we'll keep arguing and fighting… forever?' My vision blurs. 'These grey skies. They never clear, never grow dark or blue. Should I have expected anything else? I thought uniting our extremes, black and white, would form a beautiful rainbow, not endless, miserable _grey_.' Lifting a strange hand, I brush away my strange tears. 'I'm sorry for everything, Volibear.'

'Don't apologise. Keep walking.'

'You beautiful man, why can't I be like you?'

'Because I'm irrelevant. You still matter, for good or ill.'

'_You_ still matter. She loves you.'

'She must surpass me, as must you…' He sounds like a ghost releasing all cares before passing. 'As must you. Stop seeking my approval. Stand on your own. Keep walking.'

My boots gather dew, moss and soil. Unseen layers of pollen slow my heavy, swinging arms. Cloudy thoughts amass until my chin touches my clavicle. I beg for the chip, chip, chip of age to hollow my skull, to displace regret with bewildering fear. The void looms. I don't walk. I fall forwards. I fall forwards.

'Ashe?'

I fall.

'Ashe?'

Every mistake, another step. I'm walking. As long as I can walk, everything will be fine. You have more power than I do, my people, my love. The land rises to the setting sun.

'Ashe, wake up!'

I can do this, I think.


	37. Reprise - Chapter 1

**Reprise – Chapter 1**

I'm in a prison with no walls. The earth and sky have crumbled into darkness. Nothing remains but a curious gas lamp, suspended above like a warning. It bathes my form in a grey light. My shadow creates the floor upon which I lie.

How did I get here?

* * *

I have memories. I'm unsure if they're from the past or the future.

Perhaps I should treat them all as the present. Yes, that might work.

Volibear and I walk together, not quite in silence. I've torn him asunder. He no longer knows who he is or what he believes. I have that effect on people. However, one constant remains. He is a slave to his compassion. As I torture him with my presence, he helps me walk, ensures I eat and drink, and even helps me into my bedroll when I collapse.

He may resent me, but we faced the void together. We can't always choose our family, and now we're brothers. I tell him this. While the prospect unsettles him, he doesn't argue.

Upon reaching the Freljord, we chart our course without discussion. Returning via my lands to gather supplies and an escort would have been wiser, but I no longer care for my safety.

The climate rejuvenates. We make rapid progress towards the Winter's Claw. A frozen river marks the natural boundary between our lands. I'd crossed it before to fire messages to Sejuani.

Volibear expresses no relief. 'We're back. Hopefully, I'm still welcome. We may have a fight on our hands.'

'Would Sejuani have covered for your absence?'

'Yes, but word of our journey has likely travelled. If it's reached the wrong ears…'

We may find ourselves behind enemy lines with nowhere to run. 'Do you think Udyr knows?'

'He was in your lands the whole time I was in your company.' Volibear sounds pleased. It's not often he has the advantage. 'If we're lucky, he'll find us before anyone else. Our raiders listen to him, so he could disperse them and smuggle us in.'

'Udyr's been a stone in my boot for so long but I wouldn't have survived without him. I've almost come to think of him as an ally.'

'Think what you will. I doubt he cares.' Volibear opens the strongbox to reveal Anivia's egg. I'd feel better if there were some evidence it contained Sejuani's rescued soul. 'Here.'

'You're trusting me with this?' Weeks ago, I would have been elated. Now I feel guilty.

'You need protection. Our berserkers _might_ endanger Sejuani to kill you, but most will hesitate.'

'They're not going to look at this and assume it's important.'

'I'll tell them it is. And if any of them strike first, I'll have my claws free to defend you.'

Gingerly, I pick up the egg. It nestles to my bosom as though it belongs there. My cheeks grow warm. 'Thank you,' I say. 'This will change everything, won't it, if I'm seen to rescue Sejuani?'

'Maybe not for the better, or as much as you'd hope.'

'It's hard to believe in a tidy resolution after all we've been through.' I smile at him. 'Hey, Volibear?'

'True, which is as it should be.'

I offer him my hand. He accepts it, and we confirm a relationship which is entirely ours, even if it's not a good one. 'Lead the way. Sejuani's waiting.'

The empty strongbox remains in the snow behind us, awaiting a second life, or slow destruction by the Freljord.

* * *

I know Sejuani's lands quite well, though it's odd to see them during the day. Normally, if I'm here, I'm creeping about at night. The plains are much wider, flatter and sparser than ours, which is why the Winter's Claw have a tradition of mounted combat. I'm glad they struggle with our forests.

Udyr charges into view, his broad silhouette enhanced with the blue shroud of his bear aspect. I struggle to read his face, which is all teeth and beard. Is Udyr capable of emotions other than contempt? He spies the egg. 'So you endured the Shadow Isles long enough to rescue Sejuani. Guess the old man can still fight.'

Volibear swells with pride. 'Was there any doubt?'

'Your choice of companion suggested otherwise.' Udyr grins. 'Ashe, you look smaller and older than I remember. Did you carve chunks off yourself to buy his mercy?'

'Perhaps. You're well placed to comment. I should thank you for saving my life.'

'You're welcome but you had the benefit of circumstance. Don't count on my protection. I survived this long only by letting the right people die.' The spectre of a turtle forms a barrier between us. 'Are you here to unite the Freljord by restoring Sejuani? Your hubris astounds me. Only Volibear and I know the details of Sejuani's bondage so your gift will mean nothing to her tribe.'

'It will mean something to _her_.'

'She'll be grateful, but her captured soul was never the cause of her lethargy. It was a promise to alter her fate after death, no more, no less.' He steps back into a wide posture, drawing energy from his trunk. 'Her darkness comes from within, as it always did. Volibear should have told you this.'

'He did. Your pessimism won't deter me. I'm here to repay my debt. Everything else can follow.'

'If I were a pessimist, I would not be wasting my time with your internecine quarrel. It is a tragedy that I must rely on you all to defeat the Watchers.'

'Do you make a habit of wishing away your allies?'

Volibear drags a paw along his snout. 'He does. You learn to ignore it after a while.' He squares up to Udyr. 'We need your help.' It sounds like a threat rather than a plea. This must be how Sejuani's people talk.

Udyr plays along. 'You want to sneak Ashe to Sejuani? I won't endanger myself by coming with you but I can provide a route. I'll sweep ahead and ensure the path is clear.'

I'm impressed by how quickly Sejuani's men work through their antagonism to solve problems. My advisors could learn a thing or two here. Volibear says, too eagerly, 'How fit is Sejuani? Could you bring her to us?'

I override him. 'No, that would be dangerous. People might see betrayal. If we go to her, she can deny all knowledge.'

'I'll be glad when we part ways, Ashe. I'm too dependent on your oversight.' He adds quietly, as if confessing a weakness. 'If that isn't an option, I'd like to know how she's doing.'

Udyr frowns. 'What would I know? She communicates little, and exercises to quiet her mind. At least she now resembles a leader rather than a corpse. I can gather reports and obtain decisions without a prompt.'

'Is she eating?'

'She's always mashing her gums on some bone or other, but she's not putting on weight. Maybe she has a parasite.' Udyr shrugs. 'I'm not her nurse. I leave that role to you, Volibear.'

She can't look after herself. I have to respect her autonomy but old reflexes die hard. I can't resist. 'She's throwing up when no-one's looking. Are her teeth rotten?'

'They've always been rotten. I can't say if they've worsened. Unlike you, I don't make a habit of entering her mouth.'

My skin crawls. 'How much do you know?'

'Please, Ashe. You released her from your dungeons and blamed it on me. I spent enough time in your lands to hear the tale you'd spun. At Kaiku, Sejuani thanked me for saving your life. A month later, you began firing love letters into our territory. Now, you've rescued her rather than press your advantage.' His bear aspect returns. I don't know if it's a trick of the light, but his arms appear to lengthen. 'I've no mind to suffer your act. You should follow quickly and waste less of my time.' Udyr sprints away. Clouds of snow rise and fall in his wake. It's unfair how he can run so fast for so long.

Volibear gets on all fours. 'Come. Udyr won't betray us, but there's every chance he'll get distracted if we don't hurry.'

I vault onto his back. 'I'm glad he's co-operating.'

'As am I. He hates responsibility, yet he's taken up my role. It's a relief to know Sejuani's had a capable go-between.'

'Have I turned him against his nature like everyone else?'

He grumbles. 'I'm sure Udyr is beyond anyone's control. You can rest easy.'

'Not yet, Volibear.'

We go deeper into Sejuani's territory, and closer to my judgement.

* * *

Udyr zig-zags across the plains, then up a sheer mountain-face. No other human could follow without preparation. Luckily, Volibear makes short work of the climb as I hold on for dear life. Heights aren't an issue for me but I don't enjoy relying on someone else's grip.

I don't know what to expect from Sejuani's base. Her own tent is mobile, in keeping with tradition, but I'd long suspected there was a semi-permanent retreat, a point from where Volibear and Sejuani could manage both their forces.

We're close to the southern tip of Ursine territory. Their lands were impregnable until now. The Ursine could sniff out a spy in a swamp. We're high enough that clouds are obscuring our view.

There's no sign of Udyr. He's made himself scarce. We must be close.

The damp is unpleasant, but at least we're out of the wind. As I'm losing my thoughts to the steady rumble of Volibear's progress, we dip below the clouds and all is revealed.

A wide plateau juts into the ravine like a stretched lip. I recognise Sejuani's tent at once, an imposing, two tier fabrication, held together with bones and the discoloured, scaly hide of some creature, possibly a remorhaz. I wonder if she designed it herself.

The other structures look permanent. One is a disinterested mead hall, not suitable for a chieftain. The rest are stores and fortifications. Caves burrow into the mountain wall. This looks more like an evil monastery or prison camp than a proud seat of conquest.

Volibear says, 'We've made it. Skulking through your own territory like a thief is not pleasant. I don't understand how anyone endures this kind of double life.'

I dismount and loosen my joints, grateful to be in control once again. 'Welcome to my world, Volibear. For better or worse, we'll have nowhere to hide after this.'

'Perhaps. Whatever your intentions, people might interpret this in ways that conceal you. To counter them, you will need a myth, a narrative… or a dream to make this work, a vision people can't ignore.'

'We have one of those things.' Maybe Sejuani and I could sleep forever and spend our whole lives there.

'That's not what I meant but yes, you do.' He sounds ambivalent. 'Once you're prepared, I'll go first. I'll protect you with my life, but you'll be challenged in other ways and I can't speak for you.'

'Can we put an end to this talk of you dying for me?'

'No. My promise to Sejuani comes first.'

* * *

Volibear announces our arrival. He wastes no time revealing my presence. Everyone scrambles to receive us. I meet their eyes. There's distrust but little disdain. Sejuani's inner circle must echo her regard for me.

I look for anyone resembling a mistress. The shorter, beardless warriors aren't unambiguously female. Everyone wears comparable armour. None are cursed with Sejuani's overt appeal or my cruel womanhood.

She guards her desire too well, as always. I'd vainly hoped for some insight.

Three months ago, this would have been the most stressful, pivotal moment of my life. Now I feel nothing. I wonder if my veteran's broken stare is persuading Sejuani's people that I'm one of them.

We're proceeding slowly but steadily when a loud snort halts our advance.

Bristle emerges from a tent, just large enough to contain him. For an instant, I smile stupidly, knowing Sejuani values him so. He's proof of her maternal instincts. My little daydream vanishes when I see the purpose in Bristle's eyes. He's focused on the egg I'm carrying. I can taste his scalding breath from here.

Volibear leaps in front of me, paws crackling. He yells to the crowd, 'Get Sejuani! She's the only one who can soothe him!' Volibear then plants all four limbs into the ground, as if bracing for a hurricane. He says to me, 'Beasts recognise souls, and he'll do anything to reach Sejuani. Guard that vessel.'

'With my life,' I say.

Bristle and Volibear collide. Everyone scatters from the force of their impact. As I shake off the thunderclap, I'm amazed to see Volibear overcoming their weight difference with guile and balance. Every time Bristle leverages one set of muscles, Volibear shifts, jabbing his claws into softer hide. I pray someone comes before Sejuani gets hurt.

A familiar battle cry startles me. I whirl to see an explosion of hair, the colour of fire. The sun glints off a blade. In other circumstances, I would have leapt aside. Instead, I use my body to protect Sejuani.

Pain shatters my nerves. A sticky warmth coats my shoulder and arm. Cold unfurls from my neck. Sensation ebbs, as if I'm being removed, piece by piece. Collapsing to the floor, I strain to breathe, but I have no lungs. I hear the crushing drumbeat of asphyxiation as my tongue flaps uselessly in a pool of my blood.

I look up into Olaf's murderous rage. Sweat and saliva coat his beard, yet his anger is righteous, not feral. He's watched his beloved Sejuani shrivel before his eyes and he knows I'm responsible. Olaf was never the mindless warmonger of his reputation. He'd always fought and killed for a reason, like honour, perfection… or vengeance.

Damn you, Kalista. I should have known you'd follow.

Sejuani's weapon crashes into him. She's here! The cold cyclone tugs at us but Olaf ignores it and erupts free. Not even my arrows could suppress him. He raises another axe to finish me off but Udyr's tiger spirit enters the fray, shredding Olaf's back to ribbons. Olaf can't ignore the threat. As they duel to the side, Sejuani straddles me. The colour's drained from her cheeks. Not even the red-raw lash of the Freljord remains.

Don't worry, my princess. I'm going to make everything better. My mission is over. I think I'm smiling. She's so lovely that I can't help it. My beautiful Sejuani, death itself won't keep us apart. Once we touch, I will never let go. Tendons rebind through sheer will. Reaching up, I caress her jaw. She clutches my hand. There. No matter how wide the void opens, I will never fall, not with my love as my anchor.

The world grows dark and silent. There's only her skin on mine.

We hold on.

I will embrace this instant, these last few seconds. I will make them into days. I will make them eternity.

My spirit lingers enough to see the darkness crack with azure light.

The egg is hatching.

* * *

I hear Avarosa's lament.

_Sejuani is not a cryophoenix, and humans are part of a different cycle. The soul has to progress, not return to the same body._

Then what will happen?

_Time will resolve this contradiction. Forgive me. I could have warned you, but I was too selfish._

My thoughts are too weak to grasp what you mean but I forgive you.

_I know, and you will again. If only you could forgive yourself._

…

_I love you._

Because I am not yours?

_Because you are not me. You are something better. Though you may not realise it, you always were, and you always will be._

Time pauses before my death.

_I will never let you go._

Like a fish plunging back into the sea, time reverses to the point where Sejuani was lost.


	38. Repirse - Chapter 2

**Reprise – Chapter 2**

Wait.

This isn't Lissandra's ambush.

_I can still feel her hands in my hair and mouth. Deprived of stimulation, my nerves echo what came before._

So this is where Sejuani fell? I swim towards her voice.

_Like an amputee with a phantom itch, I find myself yearning for those hands._

I hear someone else drown out her eloquent longing. I am in my room, alone, howling in frustration. I watch as I pull at my clothes and hair, scatter furniture and invoke Avarosa.

This fair, enlightened woman who would be queen has dropped her mask, and she will never fit the pieces together again.

I draw nearer. The currents of time nourish the roots of a tree, groaning as if alive. It shambles towards a final destination, breaking limbs as possibilities dwindle.

Yet I can brush aside obstacles, free branches before they snap.

I whisper one thought to my broken self. _This is not how it ends_.

* * *

After kissing Sejuani for the first time, I succumb to madness.

Madness can take any form, and I needed one for my purpose. I wasn't subtle.

Dreamcraft was beyond my skill. That world remains pure. Instead, I put a silly, waking notion into my lovesick head.

I stain a pillowcase with my blood then shamble across the plains to deliver it.

All I have is brute force and emotion. I navigate with no sense of direction. I could be running in circles.

* * *

I come to a wide ravine, flanked by two ancient pines, a stalemate lasting until both die apart.

I whittle signs into the bark. I spread rumours to ensure my forces and the Winter's Claw meet within Lissandra's trap.

I contrive Sejuani's death to ensure progression. I'm sorry, my love. I saw no other way. Perhaps a better person would have seen farther.

The pine falls, bridging the crevasse.

_Onward_, I urge the treant, which cares for nothing else. _Onward_.

* * *

I've cast Sejuani to the depths. Now I must follow.

The sweetest birdsong can herald an avalanche. I see Quinn beneath my lair. She's making use of my targets, yet she's due to become one.

All I have to do is needle myself to wake up. Loneliness, desire and the cover of night will do the rest.

I crawl through dense undergrowth. Brambles tear my clothes and flesh until my pulp is exposed.

In hiding, I am revealed.

* * *

It is a mercy that I needn't witness the creature I've become.

Left alone, I savage wildlife, humiliate Sejuani and orchestrate Volibear's capture. Likewise, he came looking for me of his own accord.

Occasionally, patterns form without a seamstress, or they are not patterns at all, and we suppose order that isn't there.

The Winter's Claw might have agreed with that interpretation, if they hadn't killed me.

The treant says nothing. It follows a path which is no path.

* * *

Momentum gathers. My knotty companion rides the scree down a misty gorge.

I can't find the means to cross the sea but a momentary lapse of reason will provide a ship.

With a nudge, I crawl to Volibear with my tail between my legs, even though I'd resolved not to seek his approval.

Above our meeting, Valor betrays Quinn. Was he careless on purpose? I guess we'll never know.

The treant swerves down a steeper cliff, as eager to descend as I am. Our wills are becoming one.

* * *

Olaf kills me again, and the cycle resumes. Like a whirlpool, it sucks me further down with each repetition.

Why can't I prevent this? I intervened before. All I have to do is ensure Volibear returns alone.

Something is blocking history's progress. I have to discover what.

The whirlpool ends in a single point. All that's left is darkness. The light, from where I fell, dwindles above.

Before dissolving with the cycle, the treant offers a hand. I suspect we're older friends than I know. He says, 'I would end your burden, but it always returns.'

I draw words from another life. 'I know, Maokai. Please rest. You needn't wait for me.'

'I will always wait for you. When your final journey beckons, I will be there to carry you forth.'

But for now, I am alone with my shadow.

* * *

So… do I replay and regret my decisions for as long as my thoughts endure? The despair hasn't set in yet. I've crossed over to new world, beyond time and death. What marvels await?

I hear the frayed voice of an old man. 'Your sense of wonder is a gift, ashen maid. Every turn, you greet us with the same song in your heart. I keep expecting your flame to die from one life too many, yet you persist.'

I reach for my weapons. They're gone. Avarosa's protection doesn't extend to here. 'Where are you?'

'There's only one path. You can do naught but follow. Come.'

I walk away from the grey lamp. Imagination fills the void. I hear my footsteps echo as I cross the damp-slick floor of a tomb. I see torches flicker. They reveal stones, worn by the tread of generations or a lone restless woman.

His voice returns. 'You explored such ruins as a child, yes? We've had many conversations about them. I recall your first visit. You were determined to see the founding of your land. I've learnt to disappoint you now rather than later.'

The torches dim. So that's one prospect dashed.

'Sorry. Death is not omniscience, despite what others claim.'

This isn't the Shadow Isles. Apparently, death's kingdom ended like all others. The thought gives me some pleasure. Victory is mine, Kalista.

'There is no need for vengeance here. Kalista dug her own grave aeons ago.'

'Can you read my thoughts or do I ask every time?'

'Your thoughts aren't known to me but you always check for danger. Death inspires one to bolt the stable after the horse has bolted.'

'Or the angry boar.' Silence. 'Do I always say that?'

'You do, and I always give you the prompt in case anything has changed.'

'Oh…'

'Try not to dwell on it.'

Of course, I'm going to dwell on it! I'm going to compulsively hunt for the means to differentiate my current self and escape whatever's happening. Where's a deck of cards when you need it? I could use chance to frustrate my host.

Lost in my own thoughts, I proceed without awareness. The spectral catacombs give way to a narrow bridge across the void. I halt as my feet are soaked in a terrible red light. Dread rises. The ground is an illusion. I'm suspended above the glow of a million collapsed stars, dangling as if caught by the scruff of my neck. A tug on my hair forces me to look at the horrifying monument above. I scream.

Crucified across a moon of blood, metal and stone is… Volibear, mouth agape and eyes hollow. His chest does not move. He shows no signs of decay or life. Meaningless words spill from my lips until a quiet voice breaks through.

'Sorry, ashen maid. There has never been a good way to show you this, only a quick one.'

A tiny, sallow man, nailed to a grandfather clock in a similar pose to Volibear, swoops in. I doubt his bones could survive the gentlest contact with any surface. His eyes are milky, but set within a firm expression. I hurl questions at him. 'What have you done to Volibear? He doesn't deserve this! Of all the people in all the worlds, why him?' No reply. 'He was the best of us! He was…'

'Your nation's past, present and future… and the end of all time.'

'What? Volibear is the end of _time_? How?'

'Even the ending to all things is a thing in itself, and you know it as Volibear. I'm sorry. I sought to change his fate once I learnt of his goodness but he grew hostile to my efforts.'

I guessed the universe would make little sense from here, but nothing could prepare me for this. 'You tried to help him?'

'I didn't get very far. His logic was curious. He believed as long as I existed here, I was denying others. Therefore I had to die.' The old man seems untroubled. He doesn't take it personally. 'Not just for his sake. He thought some worlds were possible only without me.'

'Could that have worked?'

'I'm unsure. I can't see a timeline where I don't exist. He has, on occasion, tried to hunt every instance of me, but his memory of that crusade rarely surfaced, and it ebbed whenever he… shifted. Memory falters without an anchor.'

I knew Volibear had shamanic powers, but since when was he a time traveller? He could have slain one of my ancestors. 'How long has he lived? Why didn't Anivia notice him?'

'You must have inferred from his regeneration that Volibear has experienced more lives than anyone could remember, least of all, him. A strange gravity, birthed from his role, draws knowledge of the man away from history and himself.'

'You mean it wasn't the storm keeping him alive?'

'It hastened the process and allowed him to fight for longer but no. Because of his inner conflict – his dual tendencies to judgement and compassion, order and chaos – he is in perpetual motion, a furnace that cauterises the flow of time. He never worshipped the storm. The storm worshipped him.'

How frustrating. If my experience with the treant was accurate, I'm exerting some influence between lives, but I couldn't remember this. 'To think I never saw.'

'You came close. Recall the trouble you had reading his expression or age. That was you glimpsing the veil.'

'I struggled with Urisne in general. It wasn't…' Realisation dawns. 'Wait. Volibear was the only one I engaged. I didn't even try to read the others.' How could I have united the Freljord with such myopia?

'You insist upon your failings. Avarosa gave you much but your vision was always your own.'

I have one burning question. 'Does he remember Sejuani?'

'Volibear sought many children. Sejuani was one of many, but no less important for that. He loved them all. The man before you has loved more than any being I've known, and he mourns just as deeply. Though he doesn't recall why, the feeling endures.'

I'm wracked with sympathy. 'Poor Volibear, that's impossibly cruel. I couldn't live with that.'

'Neither could I. Before my disjunction, I was already a grandfather. My family survived for generations. I can celebrate their lives without regret.' He looks up in reverence. 'Volibear is a martyr. He grants the universe peace by forgoing his. Even now, he rages against his fate and that only strengthens his grip. I sometimes curse my existence, but I need only consider him to know my fortune.'

'I fear I'd be less generous, er… sorry, I never asked your name.'

'You had no reason to ask. Who would you tell of me?' He laughs kindly, with more vigour than I expected. 'My name is Zilean. Some call me the Chronokeeper, which is nonsense. I keep little, except for my wits. I may have been chosen to bear witness but, all told, I'm just a mage of limited power who came unstuck from time.'

'I could ask you so many questions but it appears I'll move on and forget them anyway.'

'That is true, and I have no need for an audience. Besides, you don't have long.' Shadows lap at my feet. 'The breach will soon resolve by returning you to the cycle.'

'The cycle… I had visions where I changed the past.'

Zilean sounds tired of disappointing me. 'Yes, but you always come to the same end.'

'Even if I make Volibear go on without me?'

Before Zilean can reply, a familiar, menacing voice takes over. 'Aah, _dal segno_ without a coda, forever and ever and ever. Such a dull composition, but you are one of my favourite performers, Ashe. I could listen to you recite a grocery list.'

Zilean groans. 'Tragically, Volibear and I are not alone and this _divo_ craves an audience like no one else.'

Karthus descends, arms out as if to welcome me to his performance. The lich may be vain, but he was helpful in the past. I should indulge him. 'Well, I'm in no position to judge. I've put on a few displays.' I greet him with a bow. 'Thank you, Karthus. You did say we would meet again.'

'Ah, Zilean, do you remember when she used to curtsy? Her romantic escapades have turned her into a man.'

Zilean's not impressed. 'You're trapped in your own time, Karthus.'

'Aren't we all? Now step aside. This part was written for me.' Karthus pretends to clear his throat. 'Regardless of your actions, you are destined to die, some ten months after your latest requiem. Anivia will try to preserve your soul only to throw you back to the first rupture.'

'I think I saw it… when I captured Sejuani and forced mead down her, correct?' Was that our first kiss? Or the consensual one which followed?

'Yes. You grant her one of two deaths, the quick sundering of the flesh or the slow drowning of her self. You let her go most of the time. When you _do_ put a bag over her head and stab her with that relic of yours, a voice from another life maintains you're doing her a favour, which you are.'

To think I celebrated unearthing the Frost Queen's Claim. I'll bury that weapon again so it won't harm anyone else. 'Ten months, you said? How will I die, and why can't I avoid it?' Something tugs at my chest. I look down to see a crab-like symbol mark my breastbone.

'You had ascribed your inconvenient fainting spells to stress, dehydration or whatever seemed relevant at the time, all false. You have heart cancer.'

'No, that can't be! So my efforts were for naught? Even if I do everything right, I'm going to die young?'

'Yes. Each time we meet, I urge you to embrace the sweetness of the grave instead of this recurring nightmare but, no, you must sing every verse of your pain, conduct every variation on your twin themes of desire and self-hatred. Your cold-feathered friend has ensured that.'

'Anivia… did she know any of this?'

'No, she was just reckless. You can't imagine the joy it brings me to know that… _thing_ is not here. Clearly, she dies eventually, unlike _that_ charmless mediocrity.'

Zilean brushes off the insult. 'We are stuck with each other. I exist through time, yet exert no influence. I couldn't end my vigil if I tried. As for Karthus, he loves the sound of his own voice too much to rest.'

'Oh please, I take my duty seriously. As long as one person lives, the universe has need of me.'

'It never had need of you.' Zilean rounds on him. 'Forgive our bickering, ashen maid. Karthus gets over-excited when you visit.'

'You don't even use her name, you pretentious idiot.'

I pay no heed to their argument. Emptiness claws at me. I see the darkness spread from my womb. 'I guess reliving my affairs with Sejuani and Quinn is not the worst fate,' I say to no one. 'If only I were good for them.' Smoke erupts. I try to locate the source but I can't see through it. An eerie glow tells me Karthus' barrier is up. Fortunately, I don't have to breathe. 'What's happening?'

Zilean calls, 'I don't know. Come towards my voice. I can protect you if needed.'

I hear someone choking. It sounds like a young woman. After clearing her throat, she whoops in joy. 'This is cosmic! We're totally invading the Shadow Isles if their reagents are this good. Wow!'

My sins always catch up with me. 'Lux?'

'Ashe!' The smoke disperses, and she totters into view, wearing a scorched apron. 'You are _so_ my favourite person right now. All that stuff I told you about being a disappointment? All forgotten.'

Zilean says, 'Before you ask, she's new to me.'

Lux doesn't bother to introduce herself. 'This is the end of time, right? You don't have to explain. I heard everything. There's no way I was missing out, so I took a stronger dose to see if I could talk to you directly, and… ta-dah! Here I am.'

I fear I'm responsible for this. 'A dose of what?'

'A big bird dropped off a present from the Shadow Isles.'

'Quinn gave you the rose?' I'm jealous, despite my better wishes.

'Not her, the other bird. I'm not stupid. You and Valor did this behind Quinn's back, didn't you?'

'Sort of but she…'

Karthus booms, 'A rose?' Oh no. 'Did you _smoke_ one of my flowers?'

Lux flutters her eyelashes. 'Maaaaaybe?'

He turns to me. 'Ashe, you light-fingered strumpet, we're having words.'

I say, '_You_ dropped the rose. I was only cleaning up.'

'What did I say about reminding me of my carelessness?'

Lux sashays between Zilean and Karthus. 'Either way, it seems you boys have a quandary, and I owe Ashe enough to solve it. Aren't you lucky?'

Zilean seems intrigued, but Karthus demurs. 'Not while death can solve anything.'

'You're so boring. Artists always turn out reactionary, don't you think?' Lux taps her chin. 'Right-right, Ashe will die if she breaks the cycle, so she's not only trapped herself, she's done it in such a way that she gets to have whoopee with two sexy ladies until her bits are raw. First question, are you sure you want out of this, playgirl?'

'Yes.'

'But you don't want to die?'

'Sometimes, but there is too much left unfinished, and Volibear told me to keep on walking.' I look up at him. 'It's a debt none of us will outlive.'

Lux follows my gaze. 'Remarkable,' she says hungrily. 'If only I'd known...'

A chill crosses the void, eliciting a moan from Volibear's chest. I clench my fist. 'You'll draw the wrath of the whole Freljord if you lay a hand on that man.'

'Fine, fine, it can't be helped, right? I was only speculating. Imagine what we could…'

Zilean interrupts. 'You are not the first to discover his identity. Nothing ever comes of it.'

Lux's brow hardens. 'Whatever. My whole life, people have told me what I can't do. Now it's time to show you what I _can_.' She stands with her back to him. 'So all of history is that-a-way, clock-face?'

'It is, but entropy has dispersed everything. You'd be trying to reconstitute a wheat-field from breadcrumbs.'

'If anyone can see into the dark…' Light suffuses her lungs, undulating like the surface of a lake. 'It's the lady of luminosity!' Her eyes and ears bleed radiance until a white sun obscures her features. 'Witness the power Demacia had repressed! _No more holding back_!'

We surge through the cosmos, riding Lux's beam as it races from station to station. I'm drawn to a certain chapter then descend, once more, into the stream of life…


	39. Reprise - Chapter 3

**Reprise – Chapter 3**

I sit with my back against our chamber door. We listen to her scream, terrified and alone.

Volibear stands apart, refusing to share my vigil. He's here at Sejuani's behest, not mine. She's trapped in a waking nightmare for which I'm responsible, and he's aided me beyond forgiveness.

Tryndamere storms in but I see through his aggression. He's only here to plead. 'Why are you still out here? Don't give in to her fucking pride, Ashe. Do you know how many things can go wrong with childbirth?'

I say flatly, 'She might die.'

'How can you be so…?' He urges Volibear. 'Talk some sense into her, old man! You should be the voice of reason here, not me.'

His words crack with empathy. 'Do you think Sejuani cares for reason?' He can hardly breathe. The smell is choking him. 'She is losing her identity in there. Force would only scatter what remains. Let her die on her feet.'

'She's dying on her back!' says Tryndamere. 'And there's no such thing as a good death. No matter what she loses, I'm sure that stubborn mare could recover, but she needs _life_ to do so.'

A stranger's words leave my mouth. 'Tryndamere, she knows her limits, and we have to respect them for our alliance to work.'

'You don't believe that. She's the type who goes in first, and warriors like that only survive as long as their backup.' I don't answer. We've performed this dance too many times. He'll cave. 'You second-guess everyone. Why choose now to break the habit of a lifetime?'

'I'll break every habit she desires to be the woman she deserves.'

'You're denying yourself. That ain't healthy. You of all people should know that.' He doesn't have to mention Quinn by name.

What is there to deny? I'm so far gone due to stress and fear, that all I can feel is a distant grey hum, running through my temples. I gaze through Tryndamere to a point somewhere beyond, a grey star in a grey sky. 'I know that I'm often wrong. Sejuani might prove that again.'

'She can't prove anything! What's going on in there has nothing to do with her strength or will. She could be tough as my boots. All of that conditioning won't unravel her tubes if they're knotted.'

I wish I knew enough about childbirth to disagree but recent events had left me too numb to learn. I'd crushed two thirds of the Freljord with mechanical savagery, and shed all compassion to do so.

* * *

The slaughter began with a miracle, or a technicality disguised as one.

Anivia's egg could restore only via rebirth. The cryophoenix herself could fulfil this by perishing to hatch again. Humans could use its magic to experience their life anew but they could not reproduce themselves into the future.

However, due to Volibear's conduction and Sejuani's connection to the beyond, she and I had met inside the cryophoenix egg. The process now had two lives with which to create a third. The egg had been _fertilised_. Sejuani reclaimed her soul but, instead of waking up in the past, she moved on by carrying our child.

She took this poorly. Sejuani had never accepted her body. She didn't eat. She didn't leave her quarters. Instead, she spent long hours peering into the dark as if she could expel her mind by staring hard enough.

When she finally told me this, I recalled Sarah's account of her pregnancy. Are these experiences widespread, or are such tales drawn to me as their rightful home?

Sejuani could have escaped her female cage. Instead, she chose life. Accompanied by Volibear, she crossed into my territory, hornless and unarmed.

I showed no mercy.

Capturing them both, I led an all-out assault on their scattered forces. I razed their settlements. Anyone who didn't surrender was made to watch as I murdered their families before them. I didn't want any children to survive and seek vengeance upon me. Kalista's army was large enough.

I carried the Frost Queen's Claim and executed prisoners myself. I looked each victim in the eye and felt their blood run over my hands. If I were to unite this land, I had to be the scion of more than Avarosa. My legacy would include that of the warlike Serylda and the wicked Lissandra. The Winter's Claw, and even the Ursine, would know fear.

Tryndamere knew what I was doing and why. He shielded me from concerned allies who might have staged an intervention. Perhaps he would have spared me this trial had the power fell to him, but he didn't patronise me. He allowed me to carry the burden as a warrior, not his wife.

Olaf gathered the bulk of resistance and attempted a counterattack. He might well have achieved something had he not been so easily manipulated. I challenged him to single combat then signalled my archers to fill him with arrows. I grabbed his axes and screamed at his allies that this wasn't a game, and rules wouldn't save anyone from my wrath. His raiders charged right into one of Gragas' explosive casks.

The last, heroic stand of the Winter's Claw would go down in history as a farce.

Others were more tenacious. Once I reached the heart of Sejuani's territory, her remaining people had forsaken their lands and taken refuge in the mountains. I had no way of hunting them down without great risk. I surmised Udyr had rallied the survivors to prevent them falling on my blade. Every pointless death was one less person to fight the Watchers. He was doing me a favour.

Tryndamere was eager to invade and match wits with the best skirmisher in the Freljord, but I couldn't let the boys have their fun with so much at stake. For now, my conquest was over.

The Ursine were not fundamentally opposed. They had merely doubted my strength. Only Volibear had grave moral objections to my leadership, and he was in my dungeon.

I returned to Sejuani and relayed her defeat in spiralling detail. My poise crumbled until I disgorged all the traumas I'd inflicted with a bloodless howl. She listened, a mere woman, taller than average and five months pregnant. I don't know when it happened, but I found myself on the floor, clutching at her feet as if they were all the comfort I deserved.

Sejuani took responsibility, of course. By her account, she'd led her people to the brink and left them dependent. If they'd been urged to think for themselves, or if she'd established a stronger chain of command, fewer people would have died. If not me, then some other predator would have sensed weakness. But I was strong. I would create and protect what she could not.

She wasn't giving me what I needed.

I grabbed her by the collar and spat in her face. I'd slaughtered her kin and I wanted to see her grieve. I wanted her to weep like a child for the people I'd erased from history. She owed me that satisfaction for dirtying my hands with their innards.

Her convulsions were strong enough that I feared a miscarriage. In retrospect, her body was too pitiless to grant her the soothing title, "failure as a woman". Once her lamentations peaked, I forced her to look at me then told her _I_ was responsible.

She lashed out.

I was on my back, nose bloody, lips torn and throat bruised. Her hands were on my shoulders. I saw no bestial rage in her eyes, only cold fury. She drew back and punched me twice more.

I whimpered for her to kiss me.

Sejuani leant back and listened four times before delivering me. Her mouth was soft, but her actions were not. All the pain and ecstasy merged into a cacophony of sweet emptiness until I surfaced, aching. The floor was cool and wet underneath my bare hips. I felt the chill dungeon air on my skin where she'd rent my clothes.

Apart from me, Sejuani sat, fully dressed, knees drawn up to her growing belly. Her face was a touch red, but otherwise composed. I asked if she felt better.

She felt calmer but not better.

Climbing to my feet, I asked whether she was going to keep the child. She nodded. We shared an understanding that we could thrash out the details another time. We could wait until the blood was dry.

The ease with which everyone accepted our magical pregnancy was remarkable. Fate intervening to stop a war, by combining two poles of the Freljord, _made sense_ to people. Commoners spoke as if they had seen this coming. I was baffled. I recalled a time when I was the dreamer, persuading others of my vision.

Had I been channelling someone else for twenty-five years? I could see no bridge between Ashe then and Ashe now. Perhaps I'd crawled out of her skin and worn it as a cloak. Sejuani saw continuation, as did Volibear. Their observations only heightened my discord.

Tryndamere noticed the bewilderment with which I contemplated my hands. I didn't need the reminder but I was grateful that he cared.

Yet my struggle was nothing compared to Sejuani's. At least my body felt like a suitable machine, performing suitable chores. At worst, it was unfamiliar, not a torture device.

* * *

We listen to her roar like a dragon as the mountains part. Silence creeps into the room. Tryndamere and I exchange worried glances while Volibear lifts his nose in anticipation. He says, 'I can hear two mouths breathing.'

My heart races. Our future is in that room and I can't imagine its form. Tryndamere helps me to stand. 'Are you all right, Ashe? What's it like, being a dad?'

'If you call me that again, I'm going to slap you.' Pressing my cheek against the door, I whisper, 'Come on, Sejuani. Say something.' I can't knock. She has to let me in.

After a tense wait, she announces, clear as a gjallarhorn, 'Ashe, I'm done. You may come.' A pause. 'If Tryndamere's there, send him away.'

He mutters, 'Guess we've got the old Sejuani back.' He really wants to see the child.

I wouldn't be so hasty. Her existence is a string of deaths, literal and figurative. I grasp the handle and catch Volibear's gaze. He breaks our connection. 'She called for you, not me.'

I say, 'Don't make excuses. You're better than that.'

'Am I? She must escape my shadow, which is all I can offer at this time.'

'Even if you're not happy, Sejuani deserves to see you! Your _grandchild_ deserves to see you!'

'The storm leaves no trace but… ash.' How unfortunate. I steal everything from him, even his ancient wisdom. 'Dig your future. The ground is yours and yours alone.'

Tryndamere says, 'Volibear's lost his girl to womanhood, and there's been no ceremony to ease the blow.'

'She was never mine to lose.' Volibear pads away.

'But you feel otherwise.' Tryndamere follows with an outstretched arm. 'Come on. Let's go tell Anivia. She's been sick with worry.' He gives me the thumbs up. I should leave the "male" problems to him. He has more experience. I'm still figuring out how to be… not-a-father. I don't have the language for this. Besides, Anivia _had_ fallen ill of late. I hope that's not due to her part in our conception.

Everything recedes. I must cross the threshold alone. Volibear was on to something. This feels right somehow.

The smell of blood and earth is overpowering. I breathe in, thirsty for communion. All these impressions are fleeting. I must record them. Sejuani sits up, at ease in her own gore. Her eyes are sunken but she looks well. To her breast, she clutches our child like a sack of provisions.

I inch closer as if nearing a mirage. An invisible smile colours her words. 'It's real, Ashe. Don't worry. She can't bite.'

'_She?_'

'Did you expect anything else? We're both women, of a sort.'

'We couldn't assume anything. How many children… are…?' My words trail off. Underneath the slickness of the womb, our daughter has skin the colour of bright snow, feathered with shimmering blue down. Flaps of skin join her arms to her sides. I'm startled enough that I black out for a second.

Sejuani's unconcerned. 'Her egg was from a cryophoenix. It's… wonderful. She could fly one day, Ashe. This girl could _fly_.'

Something in me breaks at Sejuani's tone. I throw my arms around them both. I would sacrifice the world to hear her speak like that again. I would see it burn.

As I nestle in the crook of her shoulder, I see our child's face for the first time. She watches me silently, human except for her prodigious eyebrows and shining pupils. Recognition grips my heart. This is my daughter, and she will inherit my pain and ferocity.

But she will have the guidance I never had, and I see the prelude of Sejuani's curious bone structure and subtle underbite. There is hope.

Sejuani toys with my hair. 'She's a runt, like I was. The challenges will come thick and fast. We must arm her. Between us, we can train her to ride and hunt. I suppose Tryndamere can teach her swordplay, so long as he doesn't impart anything else.'

'I'm glad you're involving him.'

'He's too good an asset, and I respect his might and devotion… but he's no leader, not like you.' She kisses my head. 'Anivia can handle any signs of magic. I'll be surprised if there aren't any.'

'You're enjoying this.'

'I am. I have my sense back and a focus which should outlive me. If this is the maternal instinct women speak of, it's welcome.'

I notice the slip. '"Women"?'

'I'm _your_ woman, Ashe, not everyone's. Only you've earnt that privilege.' She returns my challenge. 'I know your mind. You're worried this experience has broken me.'

'Yes.'

Her jaw tenses while she looks into our daughter's eyes. 'The strain was bearable, and I didn't soil myself. There's no dignity in war, but I'm glad I retained some.'

'How are you feeling?'

Her words are less confident. 'I never wanted this. All my life, I'd fought this role. Now I fear the world has been proven right. They will claim I was never a chieftain but a mother, whose protests to the contrary were the fantasies of a child.'

'You're above what others say.'

'Am I? They're in my head, Ashe, and I'm one of them.' She sighs. 'What softens the blow is that our daughter is more than human. It will be easier to consider this trial as my own rather than a woman's. I didn't succumb to flesh but… something else.'

'I wish I could have taken your place.'

'No, I'd have felt helpless, uninvolved and suspicious of our daughter. It was better this way. Besides, _I_ am your vanguard.'

Her declaration is romantic yet I look over my belly and feel the kick of a premonition. I'll never give birth. 'As long as you're fine with that.'

'I am. You needn't worry for my sake. I'm well and I have a campaign to lead.' Sejuani chooses her next battle. 'What of her name? Are you still enamoured with "Serylda"?'

'Or Seryldóttir. By accepting your people's matriarch as an Avarosan, we could heal the past.' Avarosa's cool hand brushes mine. She approves.

'We can't heal the past or know the future. The present is all we have.'

This conversation fails every time. Sejuani offers nothing and refuses everything. 'What about Volitia? The name suggests willpower, and it would be nice to honour…'

'Volibear wouldn't appreciate that.' Her voice grows quiet. 'You've noticed, haven't you? Volibear's drifting away, piece by piece, and I'd rather not leash him to us.'

'He won't abandon you, surely?'

'Neither would he hold me back, especially from choices he wouldn't make, which is growing harder now you're in my life. Honestly, I think _you're_ the one keeping him here, not me.'

'Why?'

'You still challenge him. I can only tempt him to settle, and he will never settle.'

I can speak only for myself. 'I don't want to lose him.'

'Neither do I but we lose everything in the end. He's not a young man.' She tightens her embrace. I should be the one comforting her but this is a pattern we've yet to break. 'If he leaves without a word, it won't be for lack of care. Trust me.'

'Trust you? I _did_ leave you to give birth alone despite everyone's better judgement.' I nip her earlobe. 'I know it's a stressful decision but we have to name our daughter, and I'm the only one making suggestions.'

'You're trying too hard, and I think auspicious names are dangerous. What if she chooses a different life? What if she doesn't inherit your throne?'

'_Our_ throne.'

Sejuani ignores my correction. 'If we can't build a country where our _own daughter_ can be free then what is the point?' She strokes our newborn's down. 'What if she prefers to be our son? Who are we to shackle them to a name as good as a lie?'

'Those are fine concerns, but we need something for the records. Our affairs won't organise themselves.'

'How like you to prioritise your desk.'

'You're just as bad. Your tribe's new weapons had _serial numbers_. Did you think I wouldn't notice?' I prod our daughter's nose, encouraging her to laugh with me. I get a smile. She's taking my side. 'Look, I'm happy to have a naming ceremony when she comes of age, and she can pick another one, but you'll have to persuade Anivia. She'll insist on a precedent.'

'I don't know how you put up with her.'

'Be nice. We owe her a lot, and she's been very accommodating.' Tryndamere had played a vital role in keeping Anivia on side. Ever the traditionalist, she felt better knowing I had a "strong king to protect our land". However, I drew the line at her addressing Sejuani as my "duchess". That was a day I'd sooner forget. 'I wonder if she names her eggs before they hatch. She might have a solution.'

'Eggs? What would you name an egg, Shelly? Shell…?' Her eyes glimmer. '_Skaljō_…' The child meets her gaze in acknowledgement. 'Yes, a name to be cast aside without regret.'

'I didn't realise you knew the old tongue.' With a sound like crystals forming, our daughter breathes an "ah" syllable. Sejuani's transfixed. 'You're sticking with that, aren't you?'

'Skaljō,' she says. 'I'm… your mother, and…' a tear falls down her face. 'One day, you are going to _fly_.' Sejuani cries with her whole body. I hold her and shower her with kisses while Skaljō watches, learning from my actions.

I feel our minds touch. _You are not me._

_No._

_She is not you._

_No_

_So how do "we" become?_

"_We" is only becom_ing_, never to end._

"_I"… is it the same?_

_Yes, it is a shell, always hatching. Every "I" is always hatching, only becoming._

_A shell… Skaljō._

_Skaljō._

While I am ash, the end of all becoming. Where can I go from here?

_They use ash to melt ice._

Was that her? The thought ripples. I am Ashe, the marauder who sows chaos, who turns the world inside-out, who changes warlords into nurses, who… melts ice into water.

So that was it all along.

Thank you, Skaljō. We may never share a mother's tenderness but we have a connection of our own.

Am I your father?

Sejuani draws her close. Tiny hands and a toothless mouth grasp for purchase. The contact is like a branding iron. With a swallowed cry, Sejuani looks between my face and breasts, as though begging me to do something.

Her naked horror disturbs me. I say, as gently as possible, 'I'm not lactating, Sejuani. She has to feed.' And I suspect our daughter may be a fussy eater.

'I don't know if I can.'

She's been through the worst so it's odd to see her fall at this trench but, even before this trial, her chest was over-sensitive to the point of agony. Trauma is resurfacing, and I'm responsible. 'We'll get through this. I'll fetch a midwife. Are you okay with that?' She nods frantically. Her moments of need are precious, and Sejuani prefers that I treasure them without guilt. Our exchanges of power may never be healthy but we navigate them as one.

Even if it all comes undone, I will keep walking. I will preserve the memories of those I fail so long as my blood flows, and longer if I can. Perhaps I will follow Volibear into the mists of time.

But I have not failed yet.


	40. Reprise - Chapter 4

**Reprise – Chapter 4**

Wait.

I stand where all possibilities converge. I did fail.

I must inure myself. I retrace the light-drenched path to where it forks into darkness.

* * *

Endings never truly begin. From before conception, our fate is determined. Yet, humans are pattern-seekers. We might all scratch a mark on a line and say, 'From here out is the final chapter.'

That mark was Udyr.

He arrived alone, just a man without his entourage of spirits, yet he spoke as before, contemptuous and assured. If the tidings he bore weighed upon his heart, he kept that from us all.

Sejuani had learnt she was with child. Earlier resolutions were no bulwark against sheer organismic terror. Screaming, she clawed at her swollen belly until Volibear had to restrain her. Casting aside her dignity, she slept with men, brutish and beautiful, as though it would reconfigure her brain to accept her state.

Eventually, she concluded the pain was in her body, so her body had to die. She built her own funeral pyre and cast herself upon the flames. Bristle lay down next to her ashes until he passed away in his sleep.

Volibear disappeared. His despair was too much for others to behold or comprehend.

Olaf killed himself by leading a foolish charge against me. Lissandra smelt weakness and invaded. With all his guile, Udyr stalled her but he had to concede half their territory to save two thirds of the Winter's Claw.

I was their only hope. Even if my foes hated me, they respected I had an army and knew how to lead it. Warriors who couldn't abide assimilation followed Olaf's example and fell in battle.

Finally, the people of the Freljord marched under one banner. The day had set on our conflict, yet I had failed. Without Sejuani, I was but a shadow without a sun.

I couldn't infer what was real or not. I had no fantasy with which to compare the dismal present. Luckily, I wasn't needed. The Watchers were a monolith, not an unpredictable, messy alliance. Lissandra enjoyed her traps, but they were the ploys of a constant rival, not one which wavered between love and hate. Anivia's cold arithmetic and Tryndamere's earthly guile were enough to protect our lands. They didn't need my supposed genius.

Udyr was a great help. He clashed with Tryndamere, as comparable souls often do, but he soon earnt everyone's trust, along with their ire. He was plainspoken and easy company. While he had little sympathy for my broken heart, he acknowledged it was a mortal wound, and assumed I was no longer a factor in his campaign. Others tried to heal me through patience, logic or tears. Udyr accepted my condition without argument.

I retreated further into my shrinking world. Rumours alleged I was dying because of my link to Sejuani. People had always wondered if we were sisters of blood or fate. Without her as the southern cross to my polestar, I lost all significance. Alive, yet not living, I passed into myth. Tryndamere was our nation's leader. My part was over.

Soon, I came to believe I was holding Tryndamere back. He persisted in seeking my judgement, even as I echoed his conclusions, time and again. I'd long underestimated my dear husband and I wanted the world to share my epiphany. Tryndamere was no bloodthirsty relic but a tenacious and empathetic leader, who would be present in a way that I never could.

I was fully prepared to close this chapter and end my life, give myself to the wastes… yet I had made a promise to one little Demacian.

I considered leaving without a word. After all, I needed no supplies. Even in my diminished state, I could hunt my way to the border. My bloody talents remained. However, I could not abandon Tryndamere to the pain of questions unanswered.

I explained I had to choose between two deaths, a quick one which secured my place in history, or a slow one which paid off my debt. He said he couldn't bear any more loss, that I was all he had left. I had no words. He collapsed over my desiccated form and I stroked his back and hair, mourning the life my sexuality had stolen from us.

Eventually, he recovered, and insisted on whatever option kept me alive the longest. He could fight for a better world so long as I was in it. I told him he would find another reason because he had done so before.

We parted, and he kept the secret of my survival, and our wedding band.

* * *

In Demacia, I couldn't reveal my presence to Jarvan, but I had no means by which to find Quinn. The land was kinder than the Freljord but I didn't know the seasons or the flora. The mushrooms made me hallucinate. Wild animals congregated where I'd seek shelter from people or daylight.

I longed for a cave to call my own, but the Demacians loved building castles near rock formations. I was delirious and exposed. With nothing to occupy my thoughts, I could find respite only in exercise, masturbation and sleep.

Occasionally, I broke up the monotony with a mushroom binge, but the indulgence left me sick for days.

Months passed, and sleep became impossible. I dreamt I lay next to Sejuani's corpse, and when I woke up, _she was still there_, grey and bloated as if she were pregnant. I howled, lost in a reality of my own, crawling on all-fours in case I fainted from exhaustion or madness.

I imagined bright Valor against the bright Demacian sky, bold, untroubled Valor. Quinn stirred longing and regret, but Valor soared above our concerns. I latched onto his freedom and followed him as I would a constellation.

After circling identical plains, I found myself lying in a wheat field, staring into the sun as if it would render me blind within and without.

Yet it wasn't a sun, it was a young woman with golden eyes and red hair. She gathered me into her arms and we cried. Finally, my pain found expression in something other than death or madness.

Quinn cradled me as if I were a bird with broken wings. She had grown stockier during our time apart, her thick arms cut free of their sleeves. I nestled into her, losing myself in her expanse. My little bird was now larger than I was, in body and will. I said things, and they made her sob like a child at her parent's deathbed.

Her private lodge was no shack, but a miniature fortress, complete with foundations. Jarvan had spent a large sum on his prospective queen. However, the inside was a pigsty. Quinn lived by herself, and was averse to cleaning up after _any_ activity, whether that was dressing game, fletching quarrels or traipsing through the woods. Her bed was more akin to a nest, composed of animal skins, unwashed clothes and a rug while the sheets were strewn across the floor, mottled with stains like rings on a plague victim.

She was apologising for the state when I rolled out of her arms and claimed the nest for myself. It was grimy and comforting. There were endless layers of defence to draw across my bones. I'd improvised similar shelters in the past, and understood the appeal. From the safety of the darkness, I told Quinn everything that had occurred.

She fell on top of me. I could feel her weight through the mounds of cloth and fur. She said it was all her fault for wanting me back.

I asked if she had _really_ wanted me back, and she didn't answer.

I commandeered her bed and her life. She fed and watered me. Whenever she was called by Jarvan, she served him during the day then snuck away under the moon and stars. This left her grumpy and tired. She scowled with poorly concealed resentment as I ate with shaking hands. I welcomed her candour.

We weren't intimate. On occasion, I would wake up in her clutch, underneath limbs heavy with sleep. During these moments, I could reach out into nothing and run my hand through our guilt, thick as water.

My strength returned so I began cleaning her lodge. She didn't thank me. Instead she protested my efforts and apologised for not cleaning it herself. I heard a territorial reflex underneath her contrition. Gently, I claimed no judgement. She'd lived on her own long enough, and she had more pressing matters than her own comfort. I just wanted to give her a better life in return for looking after me.

Quinn yelled that I owed her nothing. She'd forced dependence upon me. She wasn't going to keep me in servitude, as a housekeeper or a…

_Or a what?_ I asked.

She didn't respond.

I took her hand. We would never be free of our situation. Our relationship would never be pure.

But it didn't have to be.

Quinn was needy and submissive that night, a far cry from the strong provider she had become. She looked up at me, ashamed at her regression, but I knew she would rise and fall many times over the course of her life, or a single day.

Following that, she allowed me in. I became her angel of the hearth. I made her home presentable, and tried to cook using Demacian ingredients. Neither of us knew how to cook for taste, so we bonded over shared incompetence. I would treat her after a long day by welcoming her in skimpy outfits. My little puritan seemed hesitant to play along but, one evening, she brought me elaborate lingerie and scurried outside in embarrassment.

She crept back in to find me bouncing with joy. Needless to say, neither of us slept that night, or the night after… or the night after that.

I could play "wife" for only so long. I began practising archery again. Quinn taught me gymnastics, thawing my frozen joints. I remembered that I was still young, only twenty-seven winters, while Sejuani would have been twenty-four. I was doomed to recall her age forever.

Deprived of human contact, I learnt everything about Quinn's life at court, and drew graphs to help manage her relationships. I pinned them up on our walls, replicating my old war room. Eventually, I caved into my restlessness. I dyed my hair so I could explore but my accent and, unexpectedly, my _walk_ betrayed my heritage. I had to explain I was a refugee then hastily withdraw. Quinn was agitated. I think she'd tried, and failed, to convince herself this would never happen.

Two months later, she came back with a goggle-eyed Jarvan. Quinn babbled that she had to tell him before someone else did. He paced like a heron, occasionally pausing to gape in horror. The rafters fell behind his gaze. He mentioned the lodge was tidy for once and asked if it was my work. When I answered yes, he fell into a chair, muttering something about Quinn needing a woman after all.

She'd told him about my presence weeks ago. In the meantime, Jarvan had sent Xin Zhao to assess the consequences of my departure. He found a mourning but stable nation. Tryndamere was undisputed king of all tribes. He'd strengthened his alliance and regained some land from the Watchers. Anivia stood by him, openly proud of the man he'd become.

There was no dissent. Few people suspected Tryndamere of killing me for the sake of power. His grief was too pure.

Despite the lack of chaos in my wake, Jarvan mustered a weary sermon about my dereliction. He said I couldn't hide forever, that I'd need an alias and Lux's goodwill. Even if I could secure those, I was a disaster waiting to happen. Curiously, he lingered after his warning, and even ate with us. I knew something of his trials, and he jousted with Quinn as an equal.

Upon leaving, he spied the diagrams I'd drawn to help Quinn socialise. Underneath his breath, I heard, 'Waste of a subtle mind'. He told me to, 'Look after Sir Quinn, by caring for _him_, you care for Demacia.'

Quinn played with the short, fuzzy hair at the base of her skull, embarrassed yet obviously thrilled. Garen, of all people, had started it, referring to Quinn as a brother-in-arms. An amused Xin Zhao had followed suit, and the masculine terms proved contagious. I guess Demacia had an easier time accepting a queer woman as a man. Jarvan, to everyone's surprise, joined in sooner than most.

However, it didn't surprise _me_. Poor Jarvan was trying to drown his affections by seeing Quinn as male. I considered running after him to explain it wouldn't work, but thought better of it. He'd figure things out on his own.

I asked Quinn if she'd rather I saw her as a man. She shrugged. When she was with me, she wanted to be something different from one moment to the next… and wouldn't have it any other way.

That evening, I wept in happiness for Quinn, and lamented how Sejuani had fallen to the same ordeal. Quinn listened without judgement and responded with tears of her own. Her beautiful heart was big enough to shelter a rival she'd never met. I could only hope that Sejuani found some peace there, more than she ever found with me.

The next morning, I felt a chill. As Quinn dressed, I asked how Lux was taking this new development. Quinn flinched as though suddenly becoming aware of a close threat. She chewed on her words for a moment. Lux had been very quiet, watching her with a scowl then doggedly maintaining eye-contact when observed.

From what I knew of Lux, she begrudged people who were more radical, and Quinn's gender-flipping was the bleeding-edge of high society. Lux must have felt she was losing the only woman close to her age in Jarvan's entourage. On top of that, she'd expressed interest in Quinn and likely didn't know what she felt any more. Betrayed?

A season later, Jarvan returned with ill-tidings. Lux had gone missing, and burnt everything she couldn't carry. Many of his sources were compromised, and he didn't trust his purifiers, Lucian or Shauna, to be merciful.

I began to realise why Jarvan had retained Quinn. It wasn't mere sentiment or propaganda. He needed an operative who wasn't tainted by vengeance, bloodlust or magic. As Lux had been partial to me and Quinn, he beseeched us to track her down before the worst happened. Quinn looked at me as if it were my decision. I leapt at the chance to be of use.

Jarvan seemed unhappy, as though he'd led me into a trap and felt instant remorse. He stated that our journey might send us across Runeterra. If we wished to live unburdened lives, we could settle in a different country, far from here. I could see his logic. He was averting the potential crisis of my discovery. Quinn could go missing in action with her honour intact. Jarvan would provide for her family… no, her _entire village_.

Quinn was inconsolable. She barked out words between clenched silences, that she had wanted nothing more but to serve Demacia. Quinn didn't put it in so many words, but she now had to choose between her people and a ruined woman to whom she'd foolishly pledged her love. In her rage, I thought she was going to hit me.

That's not true. I merely hoped she would.

Jarvan haltingly offered that there might not be a Demacia if Lux wasn't brought to heel. There was little to go on but a feeling in his old wounds and a tense, cryptic exchange with Sona, but he'd earnt his intuition. Jarvan was not a stupid or sheltered man.

Quinn didn't come to bed. She slumped in a chair, hands clasped between her spread knees. Eventually, she said, 'You want this, don't you? This is your chance to make a difference again, to make things _right_.' She interrupted my response. 'You deserve it. I can't sentence you to this half-life. We're going.'

I asked her how she felt. She replied, flatly, 'Don't all young men want to see the world? No, I'm unhappy, Ashe, and I feel as though I've wasted my life up to now. But I can change how I feel. With you at my side, I could learn to see the good in anything, even this. It will take time, is all.'

I asked if she wanted me to leave.

'Don't leave me.'

That was an order, not an answer.

'No, I don't want you to leave, not now, not ever. If I could turn back time, I would drag you into my life again and again. After all, what is a knight without his lady?'

Or a country?

'Ever since you showed me the lights of the Freljord, I've wondered, in private, if "country" was too small a word. The seed you planted has yet to blossom, but it aches for the sun.'

She's changed. She's more eloquent when she speaks like a man.

'I'm still changing but I need time. Forgive me.'

There was nothing to forgive.

* * *

The next day, I stood on a hill, beneath the watchful glare of distant clouds. I'd buried myself long enough that it felt novel to portray this unique animal called "Ashe" to the world. I was rediscovering Runeterra, myself and the relationship between us all.

In my wake, a figure prowled, looking over their shoulder like an orphan plotting revenge for their burnt village. I'd abandoned my life to claim another's. My promise to Quinn was no excuse. The choice was mine.

Everything was in tatters. After losing the Freljord and Sejuani, how could I save Demacia and Lux? Was Quinn still my lover and friend? Would he… she… resent me for the rest of their life? Would we spend the rest of our days apart from everything we once knew, with just our regrets for company?

Quinn turned, slower than a sunset, falling deeper into my shadow. Stricken with guilt, I begged her to let me go.

Her smile glittered more than anything I'd seen.


	41. Reprise - Chapter 5

**Reprise – Chapter 5**

I'm back. For a terrible instant, I process two lifetimes of pain and loss. I claw for air I no longer need until spectral hands restore my poise, bracing me against the pull of time.

Lux yells, 'Keep it together, Ashe! You have to listen to me.' Her shrill voice is dry with panic.

'I can't let Sejuani die! I can't… I can't go forward, even if it is possible.'

'Shut up, you bimbo! You think she won't die of a broken heart without you?' Lux's eyes have disappeared, leaving inky pools of nothing. 'We're breaking this cycle. The first vision is one of your possible futures, and you never let fear of failure stop you before.'

'Yes...' My figure stabilises. 'For better or worse, I let nothing stop me.'

Zilean speaks up. 'If I may, the vision is one of your possible _pasts_. If you fear Sejuani's downfall, know it has already happened. You may be trapped in this cycle but, each time, life goes on.'

Lux says, 'Right-right, so there's no excuse to dilly-dally.' She pulls out a notebook and a pencil. 'A good spymaster always keeps these to hand.' She scribbles and her mouth contorts with each stroke. 'We have proof your disease can be cured, and I think I know how. There's a fallen celestial, Soraka, who hovers around Zaun, caring for the sick. She doesn't keep a low profile, so Quinn and I can track her down easy and point her in your direction.'

'You can't involve Quinn again!'

'Tsk, don't be cruel. This is well within our abilities and she loves being a girl-scout.' Lux stabs into the parchment. 'Right, I'm going to hook this note on Volibear's claw. All er… future-past-whatever-you has to do is get another rose, and other-me will find this note and save you. Mwahaha, I'm so good.'

I cringe at her enthusiasm. 'Why are you doing this? Is it out of the goodness of your heart?'

She fixes me with her hollow eyes. 'Of course, plum-pudding, is it that hard to believe?'

'I didn't mean it like…'

'Don't lie to me, bitch.' Her power flashes and I glimpse her bones. 'You guessed right. Something happens, and I suspect you and Quinn are the only ones who might help me, so I need you alive.' She wipes away her makeup, revealing damage from acne, chemicals and stress. Her forehead seems to grow. She doesn't dye her hair. She wears a _wig_. 'The light is a harsh mistress, and so am I. All I ever wanted was to be good, Ashe, but as the light exposes all, I have to settle for being _right_.'

'For many years, I tried the same. You don't have to be good. You can't always be right.' I call out, as if to myself. 'I'm sorry the world doesn't accept you for who you are. I'm sorry you don't accept yourself.'

Her arms hang loosely by her side as they dissolve into stardust. 'I knew you'd get it. I wasn't wrong to look up to you. I just did so for the wrong reasons.' Her jaw hinges open, stretching into a banshee's wail. 'Perhaps, one day, I'll face myself as you did, but Runeterra may not survive the consequences.'

'We will. Believe in us.'

'Easier said than done when you're all so dumb.' She cackles then disappears.

The whirlpool of time rages. My obligations anchor me like a stone. I have to address Karthus and Zilean. 'Will this be the last time? If we're old friends, I owe you a better farewell.'

Zilean says, 'You owe us nothing but I've always enjoyed your visits. I'm honoured that you consider us friends.'

With a small, sincere bow, Karthus adds, 'For once, the old fool speaks for us both. Your progress was inevitable. Death abhors a closed loop, yet I mourn its passing.'

I say, 'We'll meet again, if Lux has anything to do with it.'

'She's a dangerous being. If her resentment's unleashed, you will come around to my way of thinking soon enough.' Karthus flinches. An unseen wind ruffles his cloak. 'You've seen how much her power illuminates. Imagine all those potentialities behind one set of mortal eyes.'

Zilean adds, 'I have clouded sight which renders the timeline as a series of dark, distant leaps. It keeps me sane. You've glimpsed what your acquaintance can, and she lacks your humility and focus.'

I'm panicking. 'What are we to do?'

Karthus says. 'Nothing. You will forget what you have seen, but it will linger in the quarter-light, influencing as before. There's a chance you've already performed your role by crossing her stage. You've clearly had an effect on the witch.'

As the tides roar, Zilean spirals upwards. 'Once you've seen the end of time, it's natural to broaden your horizons, but Runeterra will face many challenges, with and without you.'

He's not wrong. I should worry more about things closer to home. Lux has good people around her. 'That is true. Take care of Volibear for me.'

Karthus turns to the blood moon. 'He is… beyond our care, Ashe, but I suspect he heard you, somewhere within the endless clamour that sustains him. You are not easily forgotten.' He nods to me over his pauldron. 'As long as he fulfils this role, I will stand vigil.'

'As will I,' says Zilean.

Karthus groans like a bell tolling. 'Spoken like you have a choice.'

As I'm drawn back into the cycle, I shiver in anticipation of everything I'll face again… love, anguish and so many cruel mistakes. How has my soul endured all this without fracturing?

I guess it already has. I'm Ashe, the unwilling scion of war and lust.

With that one thought, I return to see this through.

* * *

I have memories. I'm unsure if they're from the past or the future.

The climate grounds me in the present. A frozen river marks the natural boundary between our lands.

Volibear opens his strongbox. Gingerly, I pick up the egg and say, 'This will change everything, won't it?'

'Maybe not for the better, or as much as you'd hope.'

The words fall upon my shoulder like a warning. 'It's hard to believe in a satisfying resolution after all we've been through… so why am I here?'

'Because we persisted,' says Volibear. 'Every answer begins with that.'

'Yes, Tryndamere's wisdom.' I have to smile. 'But if every answer begins with persistence, an ending is no answer at all. Yet here I am, looking for one.'

'We may turn a corner but I doubt this will end anything.'

'I may even put Sejuani in danger.' I shake my head. 'What was I thinking? We did all this for her sake, not for mine. You should return it.'

He sounds hesitant. 'She wants to see you, Ashe. You owe her restitution, and I have no wish to lie about your involvement. I have borne too many secrets as confessor to my sleuth and others. I am nearing my limit.'

I repeat his words back to him. 'You need rest, which you never craved until I entered Sejuani's life.'

'…Yes.'

'But you will not have it, regardless.'

'My divisions are not your concern.' He didn't appreciate me dredging up his weakness. 'Are you not worried for your own life? Is that why you're making excuses?'

'No, I think I'm past fear. I've died in countless ways over the last season.'

He struggles to maintain his opposition. 'I believe you.'

'She knows where to find me. If you and Sejuani think my deeds are worth acknowledgment, you can reveal them. I won't announce them before her people and force her hand.' I pass the egg back to Volibear. 'I'm tired of the chase. I've put her on her back, seduced others to rescue her and I have your forces in a chokehold. Within a few years, you'll be driven to the mountains. I'm already her brazen, bloodstained goddess of the hunt.' Each word pulses through my skull. 'If she wants more, then underneath her bluster is a princess who enjoys being pursued and ravished a little too much. I don't judge. I love every aspect of her but if she wants me to play along, she has to _own_ it.'

Volibear says, 'None of this changes the fact our people are against you.'

'So what? Every material advantage is mine. Without her, the conquest will be smoother. Do you think I'd care half as much knowing she was out of harm's way?' I dare him. 'Even killing me now won't make any difference. Tryndamere and Anivia can finish what I started.'

'I'm not going to kill you, Ashe.'

'I know. You promised her. The point is you were wrong about my continued relevance. I matter only as much as you desire. The future is yours.' I exhale sharply. Somehow, I'm lighter, as if the flesh had melted off my trunk. I feel warm with excitement, or maybe I'm just raw from exposure to the cold. I throw off my cloak and welcome the assault. 'Go home, Volibear. Restore her. I'm going to stay a while and enjoy the scenery.'

'This is no man's land, a long flight from any shelter.' _There's no scenery_, he thinks, _only a reflection of one's mind_. 'You _are_ planning to head back?'

'Enough plans, Volibear. It is time we lived.'

He hesitates. 'I… recognise this battle. Please, your journey is long enough. There will be plenty of time for contemplation. Don't risk your life to seek it.'

'Why not? I've risked everyone else.' I stride up to him. 'You know, Volibear. I've been wondering. Forget what I mean to Sejuani. Do you care about me?'

He sighs. 'We've shared enough that I have no choice.'

'You always had a choice.' I grab his arm. 'Free yourself.'

'We do not all share your capacity for change, young one.' He touches my arm in return. 'If it cannot be helped, I will return here after my journey and pray I do not find you.'

'Just allow me this chance. If I should live, I must do so with death's door, open wide. Everything that follows must follow that one decision or it is not life.'

His ageless fur shimmers. 'I understand. Your fate is your own but… I urge you to keep walking.'

As he did before. 'Send my love to Sejuani.'

'I will.'

Neither of us say goodbye.

Volibear advances into the white void, until he's no more than a speck of grit. Even as he crosses the horizon, he doesn't fully disappear. Something indelible remains, a disquieting vision of the trials awaiting him.

I am alone with the empty strongbox, a coffin for the being I was.

The compulsions, the burdens, were they ever real? The pull of duty, the push of my body. All this time, I could have walked away and few things would have changed. I might have left a few minor wounds in the flesh of history but they would have closed, leaving scars no different from others.

I've abandoned Sejuani to her own will. I don't have to go back to my people. They built "my" dream with _their_ hands. I have the terrible freedom to wait here, forever. No force on Runeterra could move me. An avalanche could throw my skeleton from crown to chasm but these bones were never mine.

I turn my gaze to the frozen river. To think we saw a boundary in such an arbitrary smear. Tottering, I circle beneath the grey firmament. What is the label "sky" but a choke upon the cosmos?

Everything falls up. I cast off my destiny, throwing out my arms to embrace the future.

This is one ending of many.

But, for now, I have infinity.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

_Authors Note_: Thank you for sticking with me. Writing this obscure, personal series was an incredible strain. I never thought when I jotted down the beginnings of **Infinity** that it would end up consuming this much of my life. I know the series has taken some dark turns along the way – and has little audience beyond myself – but I hope my issues have provided some gratification.

If anyone has any kind words, I'd greatly appreciate them. If you don't want to leave a public comment, my gmail account is ffwsubstance. Goodbye for now.


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